Game of Thrones – The Laws of Gods and Men

Game of Thrones, like the books that inspired it, is a series about power and all its trappings. From the get-go, as Eddard Stark spiralled towards his doom, we’ve heard the famous phrase – you win or you die. And yet as prominent and as self-sustainingly obvious as it seems, the ensemble of GoT keeps trying to delay, deflect and avoid the consequences of coming in second in the only game in town. “The Laws of Gods and Men,” an on-the-nose title if ever there was one, just drives that truth home; the only real law in Westeros is power, and the structures the powerful establish to maintain it.

It’s evident in the Dreadfort, where Ramsay Snow is the worst example in recorded history of a rich kid house-sitting for his dad; horrifying as his reign as gentleman-hobbyist psychopath is, it must also be remembered that some facsimile of this has been going on for a while. Even under the just, fair rule of the Starks, Roose Bolton had enough power to enable his bastard son’s grotesque amusements in the name of future usefulness, and now that Ramsay’s providing that usefulness he’s given free reign to make the Dreadfort an even worse place than the name implies. Yara* Greyjoy rallies her ironborn with some stirring pronouncements, but even a daring raid into one of the last places in the world you’d want to be a guest in can’t overcome what Ramsay’s done to her brother. By castrating Theon, Ramsay robbed him of his value to a society dependent on primogeniture; by breaking him mentally, he robbed him of his value to the last person in the world who loved him.

“Okay, man, we believe you. Put those away. Jesus.”

It’s clear in Braavos, on our screens for the first time (Titan and all!) where Stannis presses his claim with some of the people least likely to take it seriously. Stannis has the legal right, and may well be a better and more just ruler than anyone under Tywin’s thumb, but it’s not those things that sway the Iron Bank from their simple math. Davos argues, successfully, that his grim, neurotic overlord represents the best chance for the Iron Bank to make good on their investments, to have their debts paid and their power respected; in short, Stannis will return them to the status quo. Even Salladhor Saan, who would be just as happy to stay in his hot bath with the girls who’ve heard all his jokes, can’t reject Davos’s basic claim – we bought you, here’s the money, now get back to work. (Lucian Msamati, by the way, is a welcome sight; here’s hoping he gets more material as a foil to the rest of the cheerless Dragonstone group.)

In Meereen, Daenerys has seized power before truly understanding what accompanies it, and is faced immediately with the reality of her throne. There’s boredom, in two hundred some-odd audience seekers (and shouldn’t Jorah and Barristan be filtering some of that shit for her? Get it together, Queensguard); there’s moral ambiguity, as intrepid Meereenese noble Hizdahr zo Loraq, who speaks for the guys nailed to trees, confronts her with the brutal reality of her justice. But if anything is going to really endanger her, it’s the far more elemental power of her dragons, summed up in that beautifully shot scene of Drogon heading out for an afternoon snack. Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons, but GoT has shown us all the fate of families who rely too heavily on the obedience of their children. For all her daring actions and quick maneuvering, Dany’s claim rests on her dragons, a resource simply nobody else in the world can match – and this is the first sign that her pedestal might not be entirely secure.

So many of these people, in one way or another, have tried to cheat the game and achieve power in ways beyond Westeros’s traditional structures. Theon attempted to seize it with one daring betrayal; Asha has predicated her whole life on, as Ramsay cruelly admits, having more balls than anyone in her misogynist society. Stannis, the most conventional power-seeker of the lot, still relies on a foreign sorceress and a low-born criminal to bolster his claim, and Daenerys has essentially walked up to the table, flipped the game board, and said Nah, we’re playing something else. Three of them have been punished for it, by people who played the game “the right way” or simply carved out their own little piece of the prize, while the fourth is about to discover the baggage that comes with her string of victories. But have any of them risen so high and fallen so low as Tyrion Lannister?

Tyrion’s ascension to the Hand’s post was as much simple expediency as anything else, and he seized the opportunity to prove his worth to his father and to the world at large. “I’m good at it,” he found, and confessed to Shae in that heartbreaking Season 2 scene, and he was; one of the best of his generation. But as we’ve learned, being “one of the best” isn’t good enough. When Tyrion was an idle embarrassment to his family, dividing his time equally between wine, prostitutes, and books, he was as safe as any Lannister could be; as soon as he entered the game, he was surrounded by enemies, some of them very close to home. It’s impossible to tell if Tywin, inscrutable as he is, really does want his youngest child dead, but at the very least he’s happy to let the wheels of justice turn as they will – and then, of course, overturn them at his whim and send Tyrion off to the Wall, because “justice” is just another word for “whatever the men in power want.”

We interrupt this analysis for a surprise performance by The Worst Nineties Boy Band Ever.

He won’t do it without exposing Tyrion to one final humiliation, whether out of sadism or out of a ghoulish sense of completeness, and so Shae shows up and tears down Tyrion’s last illusions, the same way he tore down hers. The book’s Shae is a much simpler character, a single-minded survivor playing the role required of her; the very real affection between Tyrion and Shae in the show might not be as “realistic,” but it’s much more affecting and powerful to hear Shae lie on the stand when she hadn’t been lying to Tyrion all along. And that’s what breaks him – hearing Shae (and Varys, I think) incriminate him, the only woman who loved him and the only man who appreciated what he’d done for the city tossing him aside because they can’t be dragged down with him.

And more than that, it’s that he did it to himself. For all his guile, his maneuverability, his honest dedication to a real job for the first time in his life, Tyrion was just as vulnerable as Ned Stark in the end. He guarded his compassion better, and proved willing to get his hands dirty in defense of both his family’s interests and himself, but he couldn’t stomach Joffrey’s tyranny or Cersei’s enabling of it. Where Ned trusted in his honor as a shield, Tyrion used his cleverness, and just like Ned it was his shield that betrayed him in the end. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut around Joffrey and Cersei, he couldn’t stop making enemies of short-sighted men (but he couldn’t bring himself to murder them, either), and when he couldn’t send the woman he loved away, he came up with a clever ploy to force her to leave instead. And then it all came back to bite him, the last most of all. So he rejected his father’s poisoned mercy, rejected the guilt of a crime he didn’t commit, rejected the clean, pat ending King’s Landing wanted, and decided to try one last clever ploy instead. Because at this point, it’s all he has.

Stray Thoughts:

-We’re going to be spelling Yara* with an asterisk, by the way. Because the character’s name is Asha, and viewers aren’t that stupid, HBO.

-Yara or Asha, I do appreciate how casually she killed that Dreadfort watchman who showed them to the cells. Ironborn!

-This is the Peter Dinklage Emmy tape, obvs. Chew that scenery and chew it good.

-More invented material here, starting with Stannis and Davos’s trip to Braavos – in the books, the Iron Bank contacts Stannis for reasons of their own (though I believe Davos does send them a letter). It’s a sensible enough way to make some timelines jive, but I can’t help but wish Stannis got a little more humanized here.

-Also, Jaime cutting the deal with Tywin to save Tyrion’s life; I believe it’s extrapolated from the books but his offer to give up the white cloak is an invention. I don’t mind it, given the necessity of rejuggling the characters to fit the new timeline. You sort of have to wonder if Tywin was planning for that, given his smirk.

File also under “things that will kill you.”

-Some Twitter folks have pointed out how silly the Dreadfort fight was, with half-naked Ramsay leaping around and giggling while he killed fully-armored ironborn like some kind of kung-fu death-clown. I’ve grown pretty blasé about the relative combat skills of characters but it’s a little glaring, especially considering the very last episode put an exclamation point (via the Hound) on how fighting in Westeros without armor will get you killed.

-Great framing on the shots of Jaime bringing Tyrion to his trial. Really, their whole wordless interaction with the cuffs was brilliant, and I think said more than their dialogue in previous episodes.

-Mace Tyrell finally gets to talk and is a total doofus. They may combine him with some of King’s Landing’s other Useless Ol’ Coots (Giles Rosby and Harys Swyft, come on doowwwwnnn!), so I’ll just throw in a vote for his book characterization as, doofus or not, one of the only decent fathers in Westeros. All his kids are good people and he encourages them in their passions.

-Varys sighting. Missed you, Conleth Hill! The scene with him and Oberyn was pretty neat, even if Varys is still apparently spending all his free time just hanging around the throne room constructing analogies.

-And Pedro Pascal in turn got to do some fun silent acting as Oberyn took in his first council meeting. He’s got a point – if everyone else is Master of Coin or Laws or Ships, what’s he got? Master of Threesomes? Master of Rejoinders? Master of Smoldering?

-I can’t decide if Alfie Allen twitching and half-gibbering as Reek is overacting or not; it’s such a singular role that it’s hard to compare it to anything. I’m excited to see him play Theon playing Reek playing Theon next week.

-Just throw an axe at Ramsay while he’s fucking with the dog cage, Yara*. Even if you’ve decided to cut bait and give Theon up for lost, just throw one axe.

-Very understated venom by Sibel Kekilli as Shae there, by the way. She basically plays it straight but after the one time she looks directly at Tyrion you can see the hatred there.

-Fifty minutes of show, more than twenty minutes of trial! Once again, single long set-pieces save the day. Best episode of the last few weeks, for more than a few reasons.

“Tell me more about this ‘whore’ thing. Spare no detail. I need them for important judge reasons.”

Power Rankings:

5. Oberyn Martell, who may just have to stave off boredom long enough to take advantage of his unique position.

4. Salladhor Saan, now well-paid enough to afford some new jokes.

3. Ramsay Snow. You know how when someone gets rich enough they go from “crazy” to “eccentric”? Ramsay could literally be Emperor of Westeros and he still wouldn’t be “eccentric.”

2. Davos Seaworth, from a smuggler to a power broker between kings and banks.

1. Tyrion Lannister, walking dead man, because some monologues are worth dying for.