Month: April 2019

Season 8, episode 3 (two updates)

Ken Ilgunas and David Dalton are reviewing each episode of the final season of Game of Thrones. Check the “Game of Thrones” category to list all of these posts.

Ken:

Morning David.

I might like to re-watch it, but here are some quick first impressions, which are mixed…

— It was a visual feast. It mostly held my attention from start to finish. There are many superhero movies with visual feasts, and they are indeed marvels of technology, but they are often too long and too unbelievable, and sometimes they even induce sleep because you know if you nod off and wake up ten minutes later, the hero will still be alive. (I remember falling asleep for five minutes during a CGI battle in Hobbit II, and I didn’t miss anything.) A seventy-five minute battle scene works in GoT because we know, and even expect, main characters to perish. The show can amaze us with the CGI and keep our attention and emotions involved. That’s a rare feat these days. It would have been conceivable to lose one of the show’s main three (Jon, Dany, or Tyrion), and while that didn’t come to pass, we did lose a few second and third-tier characters. (If I have any criticism of the CGI battle, it was a bit difficult to understand the aerial dragon warfare, and I thought, up there, there was a bit too much movement and chaos, and I didn’t necessarily fear for either Jon or Dany’s life. This is a good point for future CGI directors: sometimes less epic is more epic! The more swoops and swirls and cartoonish feats of kill, the more quickly you lose the audience. One of the best movie sword fights was done in Rob Roy. There wasn’t any CGI, no flashy martial arts. It was just a gritty, sweaty, bloody fight, where you can watch the protagonist’s facial expression shift from confidence to fear to resignation.)

— This was a nuts and bolts battle for survival, from start to finish. There were opportunities for revealing deeper secrets of the GoT universe’s underlying cosmology. What exactly does the Night King want? Who is he? How do you ensure the dead no longer exist? What was with his fascination with Jon and Bran and Winterfell–or were they merely road bumps on his path of destruction? I feel there could have been grand moments for revelations, for secrets to be revealed, for answers, for promise of something more than a simple zombie plot… I imagined the defeat of the Night King would require some sort of mystical solution rather than a mere knife point. With a world so full of magic, of religion, of superpowers, of prophecies, of long deep complex histories, and of even time travel, I was hoping for something a bit more complex and unexpected and mind-blowing—something, ideally, that could have involved Bran’s all-seeing, time-traveling superpowers. Instead, Bran merely zoned out for a joy-ride inside a crow, and Arya solved the universe’s biggest existential threat by finding a good hiding place.

— The first scene in the first episode of the first season was centered on the White Walkers. The show has had many stories, but the White Walker storyline is arguably the main one. And while the show did a wonderful job choreographing a huge battle, and while they poured millions of well-spent dollars into this episode, it still sort of feels like the show has swept a big plot problem under the rug. With one episode, with one dagger thrust, the White Walker plot problem has vanished for good. It would have been hard literary labor for the writers to really understand the White Walkers and tie up all its associated storylines, and to have properly foreshadowed everything, and I don’t think we got that. Why do Beric and Jon have powers of resurrection? What was the deal with Jon’s half-dead uncle? What is the source and meaning of the whole fire religion? The show is no doubt capable of establishing elaborate and moving storylines, like Jon’s real parentage, or Hodor’s (“hold the door!”), or everything leading up to Red Wedding. These happen because Martin knows ahead of time how it’s all going to end, and he lays clues throughout the story which we can only fully see when looking back. It’s the best sort of foreshadowing, because these clues are both completely out in the open and completely concealed. When the writer figures it all out ahead of time, and when the story’s conclusion is perfectly foreshadowed, the beginnings, middles, and ends of the story are united into one complex interwoven whole, producing a feeling of narrative wholeness—and, when done right, it generates, for the audience, one of the best, most satisfying emotional responses we can ask for from a story. Technically, this was a good episode. But it wasn’t a transcendental one that resonates in our souls. And that can only mean, Martin and the writers, when they began, didn’t exactly know how they were going to end. The foundation of the whole story wobbles. The next three episode will determine if it can straighten itself out.

David:

All week I’ve been dreading this episode. When 9 o’clock came around Sunday night, I told myself that I was too tired to watch. I got up at 5 a.m., greatly upsetting the cat’s peaceful morning routine with the battle noise. But the sun was rising when the episode was over, and I had the day, rather than the night, ahead of me.

As you know, I don’t like battle scenes. I know they’re necessary. You can’t have a fictional world whose very existence is threatened without some epic battles. It’s life or death for an entire world, and so all the power that can be mustered in that world has to be thrown at the threat. Now that I’ve got the battle episode behind me, I would have to say that it was superb and that it set a new standard for world-saving battles. The suspense before the battle started was very well done, with those of us at home, like those on the screen, peering into the dark, not knowing what was coming. This also gave us time for some last-minute drama and some very good setup on where all the characters were located and what they were doing. The battle itself was truly scary. I agree with you that the aerial parts of the battle were a bit confusing (though I loved those straight-down dragon dives into the clouds), but, down on the ground, in spite of the frenzy, we were always able to track the action.

Then we reached the point at which only magic could save the day. I thought that Bran had something up his sleeve, but he didn’t. Still, Bran’s benediction before the death of Theon gave him something important to do. And so, in the end, it was Arya who saved the day. I have always resented the zombie element of Game of Thrones. I’ve always seen the zombies as an embarrassing breach in George R.R. Martin’s originality. The zombie fad (which did at least put a stake through the heart of the equally worn-out vampire fad) has gone on entirely too long. Now that the zombies are down, I hope to hell that they stay down and that we are done with zombies for good, not only in Game of Thrones but in all of cinema and television. Kudos to Josh and others who correctly called the dead rising in the crypts.

So, with the battle scene out of the way and the zombies down, I am looking forward to three more episodes that I hope will be driven by character, drama, and dialogue. We still have the Cersei problem to resolve. But, with luck, that will be resolved by some means other than yet another battle (though that’s probably wishful thinking on my part).

We also have a lot of denouement waiting to be dénoue-ed. The list is long: Who is (or was) the Night King? Is he down for good? What was his motive? Does the Night King have a particular connection to the Starks? As you mention, we need to know about the fire religion, and we need to know Melisandre’s backstory. What’s up with Bran? Was his joy ride inside a crow really all he was doing? With the shattering of the Night King, is the world saved for good? Or only for one winter? Do the Starks all have hidden powers? There has to be some way in which the ice magic and the fire magic are connected, like the Force and its dark side. What might the connection be?

The remaining denouement, to me, is as interesting as the remaining plot, and there’s plenty of plot left, too. Thank the goddess that most of our most beloved characters survive. Who’ll end up with the throne? How will Jon and Daenerys come to terms? How will the Lanister siblings settle their differences? Cersei still has an army. Will she use it? There seems to be an outstanding plot element with the Iron Islands. How does that fit in?

With the battle out of the way and three episodes to go, I would say that the writers and producers of Game of Thrones have aced three out of six so far in this final season. They could ace the remaining three episodes, too, in which case I believe we will have witnessed the best storytelling and best filmmaking ever done.

Ken:

I predict we’ll get a political and interpersonal denouement. I suppose I’m worried that we won’t get a mystical/spiritual/religious/and cosmological denouement. Or at least that’s what this episode suggested.

There are so many ways to critique the show, and we’ve already examined it from one of many different angles. I suppose I’m most interested in whether all the strands get tied together in the end. Call this a “series” angle. But we can also examine this from a “history of television” angle, and I don’t think there’s even been a TV series that’s in the same league as GoT (but, as you can tell, I’m worried that an off-note ending might put the value of the whole series at risk). We can also review the episode simply on the technical details of each episode, or we can look at the wider plot of the season.

As for the wider plot, we have Yara taking over the Iron Islands. Since there are now like three dozen living people in the North (and two very injured, exhausted, and malnourished dragons–though they have plenty of fresh bodies to feast on), it seems sensible for the Winterfell survivors to retreat to a small, defensible island. Cersei has a bunch of ships, so it seems we’ll probably have one last naval battle and one last land battle? I’m thinking episode four is for wound-licking, episode five for the final battle, and episode six for the epilogue, when we figure out whose ass sits on what throne, as well as a bunch of heartfelt goodbyes.

David:

It’s definitely a landmark in the history of television. The only thing that compares, at least to my taste, is Battlestar Gallactica. As you’ve mentioned before, the old standard of two-hour movies seems very limited now, like a short story. Whereas multi-season series can do so much more.

The thing that, to me, is unexpected, not to mention intriguing, is that the writer’s work can take longer than an epic production. Martin is still laboring away on the final novel, while HBO had to get out ahead of him, even with a delay in the final season. Let’s just hope that Martin finishes before he kicks the bucket, because he doesn’t look very healthy.

Ken:

I believe Martin has two more novels to go.

And, yes, it is interesting to note how the writing of a book can take five times longer than the making of a TV series, which is of course a much more complicated task. I don’t have high hopes for all the GoT spin-off series we’re reportedly going to get. I don’t think those shows will be drawing strongly from Martin’s work. Rather, it’ll require a bunch of new writers and I doubt that Benioff and Weiss will be as involved, if they’re involved at all. A spin-off will really only give us the chance to dwell in Westeros a bit longer. I think there was a big appetite to revisit Middle Earth after the Lord of the Rings series, hence the three-part Hobbit series, which was ultimately forgettable and a failure.

But I started writing this to say something else I noticed in the show… Did you feel any sadness at all when the Dothraki horde got wiped out? Or the Unsullied? I don’t want to sound PC-obsessed, but we should note how two ethnic groups, protecting white lords and ladies, were either being used as human shields or as mounted zombie fodder. Just like that, virtually a whole race of people is wiped out and no one cares. I didn’t set out to make a point about racism here. Rather, I want to point out how the show did not do a great job making us feel for a people. In the battle for Winterfell, we don’t care about just how many wildlings, Unsullied, Dothraki, or even Winterfellians die. All we care about are about a dozen and a half individuals. I feel like the show ought to have tried to make these cultures and groups stand out a bit more, and to get us to care for them, perhaps the way Dances with Wolves got us to love a Native American tribe, or Avatar got us to care for an alien race. While GoT did a great job characterizing the Dothraki in Season One, we haven’t had a real Dothraki character for ages. (Would the Dothraki really be as submissive as they have been, following a white lady on her wooden horses across an ocean and then on a death march up to the North Pole?) Grey Worm is the only individualized Unsullied character. I don’t even think we care about Winterfellians. Season after season, new Winterfell residents, despite seven years of attritional warfare, reappear and the ranks get replenished just fine.

I don’t think the show has done a great job showcasing the peoples and the culture of these groups, and therefore we don’t really care if Winterfell, its crops, or its serfs get burnt to a crisp. We only care if a handful of elites, and Jon Snow, make it through to the next episode. Again, I’m not trying to make a political point here. This is a literary point: The show would have been more emotionally effective if the audience cared more about the preservation of a race, tribe, or culture; not just a few individuals.

PS1: The crypts were not spooky and atmospheric enough. In previous episodes, the crypts always seemed long and cavernous and mysterious. In this episode, it felt like one dimly lit room.

PS2: Wouldn’t the ending of the last episode have been so much the stronger and beautiful if Arya died upon poking the Night King?

David:

Very good points about peoples vs. individuals. To tell the truth, things were moving so fast that much of it went past me, except that I did notice that the Dothraki apparently were chosen, or volunteered, for the front lines. This connects with points you made last week about the series’ failure to concern itself with the lives of ordinary people. I think that’s a very serious criticism. I think it’s something that the BBC learned a long time ago.

That said, I found Daenerys’ weeping over Jorah very moving, as was the dragon descending and folding its wing over them. There was little time for grief in this episode. Maybe the next episode will make up for it?

The death of Arya would be so hard to take. Ask a science fiction writer how hard it is to kill off a beloved character. You’ll probably get similar answers. Orson Scott Card used to say that it was literarily acceptable to kill a character only when it was necessary for the other characters, or for the reader, to take on the attributes of that character and thus keep the character and the love for that character alive. That idea probably applies to a great many of the deaths in Game of Thrones. For example, Ned Stark’s death inspired his children to take on his attributes and to live for him in many ways.

Books that get better with age


The 1960 French edition of the Larousse Gastronomique. Click here for high resolution version.

When you are browsing in an old bookstore, what catches your eye? For everyone it’s different, I’m sure. But one factor, probably, is the same: Whatever our tastes, we’re all looking for books that get better with age.

You’ll be dealing with thousands of books, so you have to move fast. When something catches your eye, you take it off the shelf for a closer look.

The books that I stop and examine are well-bound hardbacks that appear to be 60 to 75 years old, though anything published after 1920 is a candidate. Books that are older than that tend to be a little too antique and archaic. If I’m lucky, I find a book that is timeless, and I buy it.

Last week I came across a copy of the 1960 French edition of the Larousse Gastronomique. The price was $10. It turns out that I already had — but had forgotten — a copy of the 1961 English edition. Though the English edition is just as thick — over 1,000 pages — the English edition is not complete. The English edition uses larger type and has been dumbed down a bit for Americans. The first edition of the Larousse Gastronomique was published in 1938. If you can find a copy of the first edition, you’ll pay hundreds of dollars for it. The newest edition, I believe, was published in 2001. I have no idea how the 2001 edition is different from the 1960 edition. But I prefer the timelessness of the 1960 edition.

One of my favorite books cost me $1. It was in a box on the bookstore floor, deemed too low-value to even shelve. But what a find that was. It’s the eighth edition of Astronomy, published in 1964. This book had been a standard college textbook since 1930. Obviously there has been much progress in astronomy since 1964. Still, most of what was known in 1964 was accurate and still holds. This book is always on my nightstand for reading in bits and pieces.

The Technique and Art of Organ Playing was published in 1922. I acquired my copy on Aug. 10, 1965. My copy of the book was lost for years, but in a miracle too complicated to describe, and through the help of a friend, the book found its way back to me. There are many pencil marks in the book, most of them from my first organ teacher, Lillian Conrad. The meticulousness of the fingering and phrasing, and the left-right heel-toe handling of the pedal work, impress the daylights out of me today. My organ technique is limited (especially now that I no longer practice regularly), but the quality of my early training was superb. As for organ-playing technique, I’m quite sure that it has not changed since 1922 — or since the time of J.S. Bach, for that matter.


⬆︎ The 1961 English edition of the Larousse Gastronomique. Click here for high resolution version.


⬆︎ Click here for high resolution version.


⬆︎ Click here for high resolution version.


⬆︎ Click here for high resolution version.


⬆︎ Click here for high resolution version.


⬆︎ Click here for high resolution version.

Somewhat off the subject, but the markings on the page above bring it all to mind:

When I was still a teen-ager, my fingers absorbed the rules for playing repeated notes in four-part hymns on the organ. It’s something that I no longer have to think about; my hands just know. The technique for organ is different from that of the piano, since organ sounds are sustained and piano sounds are not. (Well, not exactly, regardless of what you do with the piano’s sustain pedal.) Here are the rules for playing hymns on the organ, keeping in mind that the soprano and bass are the outer voices and the alto and tenor are the inner voices:

• All repeated notes in the soprano are struck.

• All repeated notes in the bass are tied (except at the end of a phrase).

• When a full chord is repeated identically, strike the three upper voices, and tie the bass (except at the end of a phrase).

• When a full chord is not repeated identically but the tenor or alto or both are repeated, tie them.

Rules like the above have a great deal to do with why poorly trained organists, or good pianists with no organ training, cannot play hymns well. Other common flaws in poor hymn playing are poor phrasing and failure to keep a steady beat. I’m off the subject of books here, but some people probably will Google their way into this. So while I’m on the subject, I’ll add this: Phrasing is critical when the organ is accompanying a congregation. You must give the congregation time to breath between phrases, with a slightly longer breath between verses. Nothing is tied across phrases. All voices break. You cannot rush a congregation that is “dragging” the tempo, as congregations are said to do, by hurrying through the musical phrases. If you give the singers the tempo in the introduction and hold the tempo yourself, they’ll stay with you to the end — if you give them time to breathe.

By the way, since it was published in 1922, The Technique and Art of Organ Playing is now in the public domain.

Season 8, episode 2 (updated)

Ken Ilgunas and David Dalton are reviewing each episode of the final season of Game of Thrones. Check the “Game of Thrones” category to list all of these posts.

David:

Mornin’, Ken …

Well, was I ever wrong last week. I expected treachery at at Winterfell. But I didn’t realize that we were right on the edge of battle. So instead of treachery we got a series of very tender goodbyes, as well as the long-awaited scene between Jon and Daenerys. I’m afraid that, next week, we’re going to be writing a bunch of obituaries. It’s Brienne whom I’m most worried about.

You predicted last week that Jaime will die in the arms of Brienne. I wonder if it mightn’t be the other way around — that Brienne will die in the arms of Jaime. Foreshadowing in Game of Thrones often doesn’t mean what we think it means, but it seems to me that Brienne’s death is all too clearly foreshadowed. Jaime makes her a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, providing her with a deep sense of gratification for all her selfless sacrifice and sublimated love. Podrick, revealing a very fine voice, sings a sad song, “And she never wanted to leave.” A different voice picks up the same song as the titles roll. The song is a dirge. It was heartbreaking.

I rarely make predictions about Game of Thrones, but if the day is saved in the coming battle, then I think that Brienne will do it.

As a matter of drama, I can imagine a better job of giving viewers a stronger sense of hopelessness and impending doom. Still, we are clearly to understand that the characters all believe that they may be living their last hours. The series’ long investment in rich, complex, lovable characters is now paying dividends in the kind of scenes we got in this episode. Some of what happened was obviously going to happen — for example, Arya and Gendry. But there also were a great many subtle touches where the love between the characters is loftier than the ripping off of costumes, such as the looks that Brienne and Podrick were giving each other just before Jaime knighted Brienne. Clearly they know each other very well, and they have told each other many things. It’s hard for me to imagine Brienne without Podrick, or Podrick without Brienne. Next week’s episode is not going to be easy to watch.

It was Bran who had the plan, with Bran himself as bait. Let’s hope that Bran’s plan will work.

Where was Varys? How could he have been overlooked? Is he away and up to something?

I had assumed that the great battle with the dead would be postponed until the last or next-to-last episode. If the great battle comes in the third episode, then that will leave three more episodes for struggles among the remaining characters, plus some denouement. A long epic deserves a long denouement. It should be the sweetest part of a good story, as long as the writers follow the rules of classic storytelling — and I greatly hope they do.

Ken:

Morning David. My god, that was a good episode. I’d go so far to say that it was among the best episodes. Almost all the actors nailed their little scenes, as short as they were. [Jamie and Brienne on the training grounds; the three Crows; Sam and Jorah; Arya and Gendry all glistening with sweat by the forge (their sex scene, not so much); Dany and Sansa; Dany and Jon; and one of the briefest was among the bestest: Sansa greeting Theon, and later them lovingly looking upon one another over a bowl of soup–that’s a perfect example of how so much can be done with so little.]

And of course the fireside scene! This sort of scene is what GoT was missing last season. Last season, the dialogue on the expedition north of the wall seemed too chummy and forced. The dialogue at the all-star conference in Kings Landing seemed so stilted and dry and humorless and full of tiresome exposition. It could have been a grand scene, but it was lifeless. Here, by the fire, we heard good stories, saw a lot of character, and felt the atmosphere with the characters: enjoying with them a bit of wine and warmth before the storm to come. And we were reminded of what they’re all trying to save: the best of their civilization, as all of these characters exemplify honor, loyalty, justice, forbearance, and compromise.

It was only natural that it ended with a moving knighting ceremony and a song. It was the little moments that won the scene, like the mischievous and warm smile Tyrion gave to Pod upon handing him an overflowing cup of wine. (Side note: There were a few other great smiles in the episode, including Gendry’s titillated grin upon watching Arya skillfully fling daggers.) (Extra side note: Verys’s presence at the fireside might have been inappropriate because, although he is a virtuous character, his career in espionage might have subtracted from the purity of the gathering.)

At this point, the show is moving confidently toward the end, with far more poise than I anticipated, and I’m glad to admit that I may have been wrong to have doubted the writers two blog entries ago…

Some stray thoughts…

– A friend once pointed out to me that GoT battle scenes are almost always creative. This is certainly true: think of the tightening circle in the Battle of the Bastards, where everyone was getting trampled to death, or the cool ways the Night’s Watch fended off the attack against the wildlings at the Wall. We’re bound to see some really interesting battle scenes. But I’m struggling to imagine how all the moving parts will interact. We have the forces at Winterfell vs. The Dead vs. Cersei’s mercenaries. What will the battle sequence be?

– I’m also interested in what they’re going to do with the remaining four episodes. (This season has six.) The first two episodes were set-up episodes. I’m guessing the next two will be epic war episodes, with whom and versus whom, I don’t know. And then maybe we get two more as an epilogue, or as denouement, as you say? Doesn’t this all seem a bit rushed to you? If this is one of the biggest battles in this world’s history, shouldn’t it take up more than 1-2 episodes? I wouldn’t mind three. I wouldn’t even mind a whole season set aside for military maneuvers, though it’s easy for me to suggest such a thing when I have no responsibility for the CGI budget. I fail to see how, in a few epilogue episodes, we figure out who’s the real ruler, how to deal with Cersei, and then send off the surviving cast members with a few goodbyes. There’s a lot to fix in Westeros other than the zombie invasion, right? I would have written for 10 episodes.

– You can’t go wrong with a summarizing lullaby scene, in which we get quick vignette scenes of characters set to the tune of pretty music. I love that shit. It works every time. Braveheart did it well. So did The Wire. They could end the series this way.

– Where is winter, exactly? They’ve been saying winter is coming for 8 seasons now, and there’s pretty much the same amount of snow on the ground.

– I feel the plan to lure the Night King toward Bran is a bit too convenient. The Night King should know that the Living People know that killing one of the White Walkers kills all their followers. I feel like the show is making it a bit too easy for itself to resolve a difficult plot conundrum (a million zombies versus a small castle).

Death prediction possibilities for the next two episodes: Theon, Jaime, Brienne, Jorah, Hound.

Another friend’s prediction/question: Could the dead in the crypt come to life?

More unaccounted for characters: Edmure Tully, Arya’s wolf Nymaria, Meera Reed, the fire witch from Mereen, Robin Arryn.

Unanswered questions: When does the Hound get to take on the Mountain? Will that scorpion dragon-killing contraption make its way north? Is Bronn being commissioned to kill the Lannister brothers the lamest and most predictable story this season? What’s with the Night King’s fascination with his spiral body flesh designs? Who is Azor Ahai?

Updates:

David:

Was it Josh who thought of the dead in the crypt being revived? It’s a brilliant insight. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I think that’s what’s going to happen. The setup is just too perfect. And how like Martin to set up, at the very beginning, something that doesn’t figure back in until many books (and episodes) later.

Still, everything happens with a twist. What could the twist be? Maybe the Winterfell ancestors knew of this possibility, and maybe there is something — maybe something magic — that protects the Winterfell crypts or otherwise alters the outcome? Why does Winterfell have crypts in the first place? Isn’t it the only castle that buries its dead that way?

I am terrified of the next episode…

Ken:

I wish the insight was mine, but yes, it was Josh’s. I am positive something nasty will happen in the crypts. There were at least three occasions when someone said something like, “It’ll be safer in the crypts.” Which means it’s definitely not safe in the crypts. You’ll remember that Tyrion is one of the few high profile characters assigned to stay in the crypts, so there’ll be some heroics for him to carry out.

And I think you’re correct to think there’s something else about the crypts that we don’t know. Didn’t the youngest Stark have a strange, ghoulish draw to the crypts? Didn’t the three-eyed raven in young Bran’s dreams lead him down there? There could be some magic power or long-dead ancestor that might hold special significance. I believe it was “Bran the Builder” who built Winterfell in a different epoch.

What are some of the wildest theories we could propose? Could it somehow explain the origins of the Night King? Might the dead be seeking nothing short of a resting place (or the ability to rest)? Could the Night King be a Stark? (The Night King does have a strange relationship with Bran, and he has a tendency to stare with wonder at Jon Snow). Some people have proposed that Bran’s ability to travel back in time and change events might play into these last episodes (the way he influenced a young Hodor, who’d eventually “hold the door”). Some have even proposed that the Night King is Bran and the only way to kill the Night King will be to kill Bran. (I picked a few of these insights up from The Ringer’s GoT podcast, Binge Mode, specifically their episode titled, “Our Seven Biggest Questions Ahead of Season 8.” It was so good, and they were so geeky, I actually had to stop listening because they may have been taking away some of the fun of coming up with my own predictions, or the joy of simply being startled by missing something obvious, such as the coming crypt twist. From now on, I’ll probably stick with our own flawed analyses.

Binge Mode: Our Seven Biggest Questions Ahead of Season 8

Two kinds of light

On a rainy day this time of year, it’s hard to stay away from the windows. Above, rain is falling, and the windows are wet and a bit foggy. Below, it’s the morning after the rain, and the sun has come out. The woods are rapidly turning green, but the leaves are only about half out. Lily is in her favorite spot.

Game of Thrones: Season 8, episode 1

Ken Ilgunas and David Dalton are reviewing each episode of the final season of Game of Thrones. Check the “Game of Thrones” category to list all of these posts.

David:

Mornin’, Ken…

I greatly enjoyed this episode, and what struck me is how the moral middle ground of former seasons is gone. Now the forces of good and evil are lining up as the surviving characters choose sides — good people at Winterfell, wicked people at King’s Landing. It put me in mind of a hymn:

Once to ev’ry soul and nation
Comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of truth and falsehood,
For the good or evil side;
Some great cause, some great decision,
Off’ring each the bloom or blight,
And the choice goes by forever
‘Twixt that darkness and that light.

(The words were written in 1845, by James Russell Lowell, as a protest against both war and slavery. The hymn is sung to the hymn tune Ebenezer, which is very much in a minor key.)

Consider poor, poor Theon, who was tortured by living in a moral vacuum as much as he was tortured by Ramsay Snow. Now Theon, having rescued his sister and feeling a bit better about himself, will go to Winterfell to fight with the forces of good. Even Jaime had to choose sides and joins the good people at Winterfell — though the first person he sees is Bran. (I’m hoping than Bran will forgive Jaime for knocking Bran off the tower because Bran foresees that Jaime has a part to play. And would Bran be the Three-Eyed Raven if he had not fallen?)

There is a huge imbalance, though. In the wicked south, we have only Cersei, Euron, and a new sellsword. And how much longer can Euron survive until Cersei orders him snuffed? Unless Cersei cooks up something new, the ingredients of drama (including characters) are now scarce in King’s Landing. Will Cersei have to rotate uselessly in dramatic circles for a while, the way Daenerys once circled in the desertlands waiting for her next cue? If not, how will Cersei stay in the thick of things? Who is there to even engage her in dialogue, since we’re all as tired of Euron as Cersei is?

Whereas at Winterfell we have a great surplus of characters all cramped up in inadequate accommodations. Thus we can expect treachery at Winterfell. But who will betray whom? Daenerys is now the character in the most awkward position. Jon Snow is suddenly the biggest obstacle to what she regards as her right and her destiny — the throne. Daenerys is faced with the choice of either great sacrifice or great cruelty. It is Sansa who is most critical and who expresses the most discontent with the present situation. Arya is an enigma and a wild card.

Though many reunions were had and much exposition was exposed in this episode, we still have many things to wonder about. Any character who is still alive can be assumed to have a critical part to play before the end. Where is Melisandre? Why was Gendry brought back after a long absence? What work do two of my favorite characters — Brienne and Podrick — still have to do? How will Tyrion and Varys get back into the thick of things? Is Sam superfluous now? Is it meaningful that Yara chose to go back to the Iron Islands?

One character, though, has risen to the top of the dramatic heap — Bran. Bran now supplies much of the plot’s remaining mystery. Isaac Hempstead Wright has grown up in this role. I believe he was 12 years old when the series started. Now he is 20 and is as perfectly cast as any character in the series. All the wise old maesters are dead, but Bran is now wise. The transformation of Bran is one of the most beautiful surprises of the entire series. I would not be surprised if Bran upstages Jon Snow hereafter.

I’m not going to make any guesses about where it’s all going. I remain convinced that George RRRRRR Martin and the HBO writers still have many shocks and surprises up their sleeves and that they’ll pull this thing off in the end. I’d say they’re off to a great start with the season opener.

One piece of foreshadowing continues to needle me: When the dragon gave Jon Snow that funny look, what did it mean?

An aside: The New York Times has a piece this morning about how GoT tourists in silly costumes are flooding Northern Ireland, oblivious to the area’s real history. Jeekers, people. Get a life.

Ken:

Hi David. I thought this was a rock solid beginning to the final season. We are primed for small personal dramas. (Will Arya and the Hound fully reconcile? Will Arya and Gendry have the show’s final romance?) And we are primed for the big picture political dramas. (Who will be the ultimate king or queen of the seven kingdoms?) Some stray thoughts and questions….

• Euron Greyjoy has tested our patience long enough. I sense that Cersei will double-cross him soon and keep his ships. You’re right: Once that’s settled, there’s not much else for her to do, apart from move her military machine. Might we get a good Martin-esque twist if Cersei uses her political talents and maliciousness for good? Her collapsing under her own treachery and deceit seems too simple, but sometimes that’s how things play out, too.

• Yara Greyjoy is going to take back the Iron Islands so Team Dany will have a safe haven should things go wrong with the zombie war. Does this mean that such a course of events is inevitable?

• There are countless things foreshadowing the demise of the Dany-Jon love affair. Verys says “Nothing lasts” as he looks down on them. The dragon gives Jon an odd look when Jon and Dany are making out. (I think the dragon’s saying to Jon, “You better think about what you’re doing.”) And Dany seems like she’s properly smitten (you have some special word for this, I remember, which sounds like “luminescence,” right?) [Note from David: Limerance!] whereas Jon is more hesitant. (Romantic unreciprocation spells disaster!) As for who takes power… Jon has never cared for titles, just what’s right and just. It seems most appropriate for him to allow his allegiance to Dany to persist (even if he’s convinced of his superior claim), but the show seems to be moving in the direction of Jon taking over eventually, and it would be too weird for them to do that as one half of another incestuous couple. The most reasonable solution to this is Dany dying in a moment of sacrifice, and Jon taking power only when he’s called to. The person in the middle of all of this is Tyrion, who is firmly on Team Dany, but who has lost favor and who has a soft spot for Jon. It’ll be interesting to see how he navigates the situation.

• Acting award of the week goes to Sam Tarly. So many relatives die on this show. So many people are reunited after years apart. When the main characters learn of deaths or are reunited, their reactions are sometimes weak, and the acting job is uninspired and half-assed. (Think of those YouTube videos of military fathers returning home to their teary, jubilant children—that’s how real people react.) The actor playing Sam gave everything he had, and I think he found a nice balance between grief and indignation. On the other hand, Arya’s emotional reunion with Jon seemed forced and forgettable.

• I do think the show is still missing some of its old Martin magic, and we see this most clearly with the absence of good humor. Martin is a very funny and clever writer. Think of all the Verys/Tyrion/Little Finger dialogue from the early seasons. A lot of that snappy, funny dialogue came straight from the books. Now we have just a few poorly crafted testicle (or lack of testicle) jokes. They have squandered poetic opportunities, too. Think of when Jon asks Dany how to ride a dragon. “Nobody does,” she says, “until they ride a dragon.” She could have quoted a fabled line from a dragon-riding ancestor, or shared a metaphor about riding the wind, or something of the sort. (PS: Why don’t they make some sort of dragon seat for the riders? It looks impossible and dangerous to hold onto those wobbly dragon spinal spikes.)

• House Glover has it coming to them. Count on them getting sacrificially obliterated next episode.

• Great dragon ride! That’s an amazing use of scenery (as you pointed out last week), and it’s a great character-building scene, as Jon begins to embrace his Targaryen side.

• Random thought of the week: It’s way too late, but I wish the show had incorporated a character or two representing the lowest classes (i.e., the ordinary people). Sure, there are lots of characters who have risen to be warriors and advisors with merit, but I’d like a few characters who are firmly stuck at the bottom, and who look at the people of the great houses from afar and from their hovels, because that’s what it would have been like for 99% of the people in such a time.

Main characters that are unaccounted for: The Red Woman, Brienne and Pod, Daario Naharis (please no), Jaqen H’ghar.

Next big character to unexpectedly die: Onion Knight

Unanswered questions:

Are we going to have a sit-down convo with the Night King, or is he just an evil force of nature without soul and complicated motivations? I feel like we need a little more explaining about his motivations…

What will be the form of government in the end? Still a straight up monarchy?

Are there no caribou or moose for the dragons to hunt? Just barnyard animals?

Will there or will there not be elephants?

Predictions: Jaime will die in the arms of Brienne.

David:

Speaking of humor, some of it went right over my head. This morning’s review in the New York Times mentions these lines:

Tyrion: “The last time we spoke was at Joffrey’s wedding, a miserable affair.”

Sansa: “It had its moments.”

Game of Thrones countdown

Since its beginning in 2011, Ken Ilgunas and I have made a tradition and a sport of watching and subsequently deconstructing each new episode of Game of Thrones. If Ken was here, we watched it in the evening and started our “Thrones talk” at breakfast. If he wasn’t here, we did it in email. As literary confederates, there are many things about which we are in complete accord. But that’s not always the case.

To prepare for the final season (which starts at 9 p.m. Sunday, April 14, on HBO), we each re-watched the previous season, Season 7. Our discussion of the re-watching follows, lifted from email. Hereafter we will “co-blog” each episode of the final season, hopefully by the Monday after each episode.

Ken:

Morning David. You’ve told me you just binged Season 7. As you know, I had some issues with the last season (which I’m sure I’ll get to), but I’m curious: What were your impressions, and what do you think we can expect from Season 8, the final season?

David:

Yep. I binged, and I was transfixed. Two years was enough to make it fresh again, though of course I remembered most of what happens. Somehow the flaws that we’ve discussed mostly melted away. What stood out in re-watching were the incredible quality of the dialogue, the perfect casting and brilliant acting and directing, the settings, the photography, and the detail. Brilliant dialogue, of course, requires more than just the dialogue. It can occur only with strong characters inside a good story. The sibling spats are brilliant — Jaime and Cersei, Sansa and Arya. (There is something particularly vicious about sibling spats.) Another remarkable thing about the dialogue is that it’s just as good whether it’s dialogue about war and affairs of state, conducted by the powerful; or taunting and ribbing by the lowly, as in some of the dialogue while the zombie-retrieval crew were laboring north. I believe I have only one strong complaint. That’s the zombie thing, which I continue to see as an un-original selling-out to a fad, and the tail-end (I hope) of the fad at that. It’s a shame to mar something so original with more zombieness.

Anyway, as for the flaws, I’m a pushover when it comes to suspension of disbelief, as long as the story is not in the here and now. I rarely binge. But re-watching Season 7 put me into a trance.

The New York Times had a piece about how Northern Ireland is now overridden with GoT tourists. Having hiked the Scottish Islands with you since we first watched Season 7, it all looked familiar (and even more beautiful). I’m just glad that all that tourist traffic isn’t descending on Scotland, because those coastal vistas work best when they’re clear of everything but sheep. I paid much more attention to the settings while re-watching Season 7. The settings are incredibly powerful. You’ve heard me say many times that certain kinds of stories can be told only in certain kinds of settings. The example I always use is that the moment a writer chooses to set a story in the American South, it’s a given that somebody is going to be repressed, oppressed, and miserable, and that the story will revolve around social and family conflict and whether key characters can or cannot be true to themselves. It would be much harder to tell a story like that in San Francisco, or Paris. Part of the genius of HBO’s GoT is that the producers understood the importance of epic settings, and they had the budget for it. Now we’ve got those places on film forever, though I hope those places never change. When the producers of Star Wars took us to Skellig Michael, I suspect that it was because Star Wars had to hit the new standard for settings set by Game of Thrones. What a good way to use a big budget! My TV no longer seems big enough. To top Skellig Michael as an epic setting, you’d have to get out among the stars — another setting in which epic stories can be told. Some settings enlarge us; some settings knowingly cramp us and suffocate us. Compare “Angela’s Ashes,” a very different Ireland from Skellig Michael or the seascapes of Ulster. My larger point is that, in HBO’s GoT, story and setting are brilliantly matched. It may be easier to appreciate those settings in a second watching, when the characters and dialogue don’t demand our full attention.

Now I just hope that the final season doesn’t let us down and that we end up happy and satisfied, with another epic for a lifetime, like Star Wars. If that happens, then it will be your curse to watch John Snow (a few years younger than you) and the other characters grow old, as my generation had to watch Luke Skywalker (a few years younger than me) and Leia grow old. These are stories that provide a mythic framework for our lives.

The New York Times also had an article about how GoT is a new economic model for television, with a budget that would have been unimaginable not long ago. Let’s hope that that model continues … as long as somebody can come up with stories worth that kind of telling.

Ken:

Your cheery take is heartening to read because I hope you’re right and I’m wrong. I’ve re-watched Season 7, and my second watching confirmed my original impressions: It is by far the worst GoT season. I say this for three reasons:

1. The fast pace of the season is out of step with the slow pace of the rest of the series. One can now travel across Westeros instantaneously (whether by horse, dragon, or boat) when, in a previous season, it would have taken a whole season for a character to move from A to B. They are practically teleporting. This isn’t me just quibbling about suspension of disbelief issues. The “slow storytelling” of GoT was one of the things that set GoT apart from all other shows. These were great opportunities for character development, and they made long-awaited path-crossings cathartic or dramatic (like the Hound vs. Brienne). The Jon-Dany introduction could have been a bit more exciting if they took an extra episode or two to cover Jon’s sea voyage.

2. The plot became bonkers. I know this is fantasy, and I’m prepared to generously suspend my disbelief with dragons and fire magic, but the expedition north to capture a zombie to bring it back to King’s Landing doesn’t work on many levels.

3. The dialogue was substandard. In previous seasons, we had interesting pairings of characters. Now, they just shove a bunch in the same room, where they jest and prod and deliver quippy one-liners. The scene with Jon and Dany in the cave was appallingly neat, and corny. The dramatic Jaime “death” and rescue scene, after the battle with the Dothraki, was beneath the writers’ standards. There was little character development. About 85% of the dialogue was exposition, reminding us of everyone’s past, their relationships with one another, and their plans for the future. What happened to stories about their lives or the relaxed and clever banter, such as the Verys/Tyrion banter, which was so good? This all exposes the writers’ need for good George RRRR Martin dialogue, which they no longer have access to.

I say all of this with deep respect for the writers, producers, and actors, and of course Martin. GoT, as a TV series, belongs in a tier of its own, and GoT episodes, during quiet parts of my last eight years (as sad as this sounds), have been some of my intensest emotional events. I fear the show has lost its Martin magic, and I truly fail to see how they’re going to wrap up all storylines, win the war against the White Walkers, and provide satisfying epilogues for the surviving characters—all in a shortened final season. I worry that the season will only be the movement of chess pieces, followed by gory CGI fests. There are only a handful of relationships to be mended; there aren’t many more secrets to be learned; there aren’t many dramatic character reunions to be staged; there are no new love affairs to be consummated.

I think GoT is going to live out the fate of 2007 New England Patriots, who had a perfect 16 win, 0 loss season, but who flubbed it in the Super Bowl against the Giants. I worry a dissatisfying finale will make the preceding seven seasons irrelevant and un-rewatchable. No one wants to be more wrong than me.

Updates

David:

Here is a critic in The Atlantic who agrees with you. Whereas I am in denial:

The Old Thrills of Game of Thrones Might Be Gone for Good

Ken:

I agree with everything he says, 100%. In ways, we wrote the same column, but his was far better. Indeed, I felt the same thing about the Littlefinger plot. The Stark sisters plotting against one another was ridiculous. We saw Littlefinger’s death a mile away…. I envy your denial!

David:

Your case is strong, and I will concede and throw in the towel and wail and gnash my teeth if it comes to that. But I also have to hope that the HBO writers and producers are smart, are aware of these dangers and past mistakes, and that they also have access to George RRRRR Martin, who I think would not hesitate to tell them what he thinks, even if his contract binds him to public silence. I do think that stories are safest in the hands of a single inspired writer whose only product is words rather than zillion-dollar productions.

May the force be with us.

Would you like for me to append a link to this piece as an update to our post?

Ken:

Sure, that’s a good piece.


The Old Thrills of Game of Thrones Might Be Gone for Good

The ontological wilderness

Philosophy of Physics: Quantum Theory, by Tim Maudlin. Princeton University Press, 2019. 234 pages.

Quantum Non-Locality and Relativity: Metaphysical Intimations of Modern Physics (third edition), by Tim Maudlin. Wiley-Blackwell, 2011. 298 pages.

John Twelve Hawks was clearly troubled, and I don’t blame him. (John Twelve Hawks is one of my favorite science fiction writers. I’ve written about him here several times and reviewed his books. Just search here for “twelve.”) I follow John Twelve Hawks on Facebook. He had posted a link to an article in the MIT Technology Review. The terrifying headline on the article is: A quantum experiment suggests there’s no such thing as objective reality. He made this comment about the article:

“Some philosophers are drawn to the the idea that humans are organic robots that make decisions determined by our own biology and environment. I think these ideas let us off the hook for the real choices we can make in our lives. A variety of experiments have shown that people who think they aren’t free feel that it’s okay to hurt another person. ‘Un-freedom’ becomes an alibi. So my day-to-day assumption is that objective reality might not exist, but assuming that it is encourages us to live responsible, compassionate lives. Please feel free to tell me that I’m wrong!”

Actually, academic philosophy has a word for humans as organic robots. That word is zombie. You can read the article on zombies here in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. The zombie concept (as much as I detest zombie movies) is a useful concept in thinking about what it means to be a conscious, not to mention a decent, human being. If we are not zombies, then what is it in us that makes us something else?

It happened that I had just finished laboring my way through these two books when I came across John Twelve Hawks’ comment. I cannot follow most of the math of relativity and quantum theory. But I do think that I have a tenuous grasp of the gist of it. I have read a lot of books like this, and I imagine that John Twelve Hawks has, too (as would any science fiction writer who is worth the ink). If John Twelve Hawks was troubled by the suggestion that there is no such thing as objective reality, I was horrified. We are living in an era in which many people feel that they are entitled to their own facts and their own reality. Do we really need to embolden fools with the notion that cutting-edge physics is on their side?

Tim Maudlin probably is the leading philosopher of physics. Quantum Non-Locality and Relativity is a standard textbook in this area. I knew that Maudlin would rip to shreds the idea that objective reality might not exist. I worried that, if Maudlin even bothered to respond to the piece in MIT Technology Review that it might be a long time before he got around to it. But I was wrong, because (as I discovered from Googling) Maudlin was all over it immediately. The Daily Nous is a place where academic philosophers hang out on line. Several philosophers of physics wrote responses, including Maudlin. Here is a link to Maudlin’s response, which has the headline If There Is No Objective Physical World Then There Is No Subject Matter For Physics. Here’s the money quote: “Objective reality is safe and sound. We can all sleep well.”

On what grounds does Tim Maudlin say that objective reality is safe and sound? To answer that question, you’ve got a lot of reading ahead of you. Modern physics is so strange that many physicists actually believe that all possible futures are real, and that a whole new and slightly different universe is created every time some tiny particle undergoes “quantum decoherence.” This is called the Many Worlds Interpretation. Maudlin thinks that’s bunk. For what it’s worth, I do, too. I would say that the reason the minds of many physicists are drawn to the Many Worlds Interpretation (MWI) is that MWI returns physics to a kind of determinism. The alternative to determinism is spooky, and they don’t like spooks. It was Einstein, I think, who first used the phrase “spooky action at a distance.” For what it’s worth, I like the idea of a spooky universe.

I am by no means qualified to actually review these books. But I do want to argue that, when these mysteries in physics are eventually resolved, it will be the most important new knowledge in our lifetime (if we are lucky and it happens in our lifetime).

If Quantum Non-Locality and Relativity could be boiled down to one key point, I would say that it’s this: Spooky action at a distance is real. Get over it.

Philosophy of Physics: Quantum Theory is a survey of current candidates for a grand unification theory that can reconcile the contradictions between relativity theory and quantum theory. We seem to not be getting any closer, really. (And I’m not getting any younger.) These theories are largely incompatible. Physicists and philosophers of physics are polite to each other in their books. But online they can be a bit snarky about theories they disagree with.

But you don’t have to be a physicist or a philosopher of physics to choose sides and root for the spooks. You could even come up with your own theory, though you’d have to provide the math to support it.

I confess I have a sneaky suspicion about where it’s all going. I like to play with the idea that there is nothing here. Maudlin actually comes very close to the temptation of that idea himself, in the conclusion of Philosophy of Physics: Quantum Theory (page 221):

“This possibility makes it tempting to deny the existence of any fundamental particles at all. If particles exist, the thought goes, there must at any given time be a definite, exact number of them determined by the number of distinct trajectories. But in a state of ‘indefinite particle number,’ no such exact number exists, so there can’t be any particles at all. Instead there is a field that can, in particular circumstances, act in a more-or-less particle-like way.”

That there is nothing here is by no means a new idea. In Eastern philosophy, as John Twelve Hawks would know, it is called maya, a kind of light-and-magic show. But that cannot mean that anything goes. Yes, the spookiness seems to be real. But nevertheless the universe remains strictly governed by its mathematics. Much of that math physicists already know. But the biggest piece remains elusive. As for maya, I am not very interested in what ancient philosophy says on the matter. They didn’t provide any supporting math. I only want to know what physicists ultimately figure out.

Good timing, Burger King

About a month ago, when the Green New Deal was at the top of everyone’s news feeds, right-wingers market-tested a new 2020 theme for scaring the deplorables: Liberals are coming to take away your hamburgers!

As reported by the Washington Post:

“They want to take your pickup truck. They want to rebuild your home. They want to take away your hamburgers,” former White House aide Sebastian Gorka declared at the Conservative Political Action Conference on Thursday. “This is what Stalin dreamt about but never achieved.”

Just to show us how extremely unattractive they are and to supply Twitter with meme material (people Photoshopped pig snouts on them), Republican members of the House Natural Resources Committee appeared on the Capitol Steps, laughing it up and eating hamburgers. Are we surprised that Republican members of the House Natural Resources Committee have no interest in reducing agricultural pollution or greenhouse-gas emissions, or that they’re not interested in animal welfare? Republican policy is about as beautiful as Republican members of the House Natural Resources Committee.

Now Burger King is test-marketing the Impossible Whopper, which is made from soybean roots. If everything goes well in the St. Louis test market, soon we’ll all be able to try the Impossible Whopper.

I Googled this morning for right-wing blowback against Burger King for daring to throw in with the Stalinist dream. But so far I’m not detecting it. The Impossible Whopper is, after all, the product of a corporation that wants to meet the demand for a more responsible (and probably healthier) burger. Whether it’s the decline of coal and oil or the rise of electric cars and efficient lightbulbs, it’s funny how the market keeps trampling on the policies of the Republican Party.

As far as I can tell, Burger King is not a significant donor to any political party. As for the California start-up that developed the Impossible Burger, let’s all root for their success. As far as I can tell, they do not get any government subsidies. Bill Gates is one of their biggest investors. For now, the Impossible Whopper will cost $1 more than a beef Whopper. Eventually, meat analogs such as the Impossible Whopper ought to become cheaper than beef, once they can be made in quantity and government subsidies to agricultural are re-aligned. A big change in the beef market would be hard for a lot of American farmers, I’m sure. But if the Republican members of the House Natural Resources Committee had good sense, they’d be analyzing needed changes in policy and helping farmers prepare for the future, rather than out on the Capitol steps making fools of themselves.


Just another photo-op for the glamorous figures of Republican history. Twitter photo.

Grilled pumpkin

The smallest of my little pumpkins — too small to make a pie or even a pot of pumpkin bisque — grill beautifully. You could grill any winter squash, of course. A Japanese winter squash, kabocha, has an edible skin, I believe. I grilled this pumpkin in the skin and cut off the skin at the table.

It was 70 degrees F on the deck today, and the daffodils are still blooming. So it was better to be slaving over a hot grill on the deck than over a hot wok in the kitchen.

If I haven’t mentioned it lately, in case you want to order seeds, the proper name of my little pumpkins is “Long Island cheese squash,” or “Long Island cheese pumpkin.” They seem to be everybody’s favorite for pumpkin pie, but I’m experimenting with their versatility. I still have about a dozen of them left from last year’s crop.

Pumpkin lasagna

Pumpkin lasagna was an all-day job, and I can’t say that it was a great success. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t roll homemade pasta thin enough. And the pumpkin, which was already soft from baking, lacked texture in the lasagna.

Still, I’m not going to give up on figuring out ways to use little pumpkins other than desserts. I think the next experiment will be with pumpkin parmigiana, in which raw, sliced pumpkin is fried in batter and then layered into a parmigiana.