In Which a Generation of Viewers Learn Never to Trust GRR Martin: 'The Rains of Castamere' (Game of Thrones) Review

Game of Thrones Series 3, Episode 9: The Rains of Castamere

Have you stopped crying yet? Have you? Well I don't care, Casual Viewer, because I READ THE BOOKS.  Do you know what that means? Do you? It means I WENT THROUGH ALL OF THAT TWICE.

The climactic events of this week's episode are probably the most major of the spoilers I have been determinedly holding back while writing this blog, although Jaime losing his hand was a close runner up (don't worry, there are more - so many more - to come, presumably next season).  There have been many occasions on which a friend who either watches the show only or hasn't caught up with the books instigates a "So who do you think is going to win?" type conversation with me, wittering on happily about how Robb is totally going to serve the Lannisters their gilded asses on a plate and I am sat silently, bottom lip a-quivering, holding in the words, "NO HE WON'T BECAUSE HE'S DEAD FOR GOD'S SAKE THEY'RE ALL DEAD."  But th- th- that's Westeros, folks.  

Oh, it's all very clever really.  It works because we think we understand the rules of fiction; today's audience are more trope-literate than ever.  After the shock death of Ned at the end of Series/Book 1, we think we know the rules of this game: sure, the 'anyone can die' atmosphere has been established but we also see now how it's a much bigger and longer story than one that can be held by a single protagonist.  And then we make that mistake again.  We think we know who we're following - it is the War of Five Kings, after all (although the show took the excellent option of sidelining the Greyjoys as early as possible*).  It's Joffrey and the Lannister fen v. frowny Stannis v. hot shit Robb Stark (dead gay Renly having been comprehensively deaded and, as I said, the Greyjoys having been apparently sent to a farm), right? And on a fictional level, we understand the rules of this universe, i.e. some kind of vague pseudo-medieval bullshit, plus tits.  We know that there are codes of honour that some choose to uphold and some don't and it is that choice that the whole show revolves around.  Ned dies because he's honourable and Joffrey isn't.  The Red Wedding is so very clever because of who it is making the choice to defy those rules, i.e. the Freys.  The pretext is a wedding, the righting of a wrong because Robb broke his vow.  The whole occasion is designed, apparently, to restore some of those codes.  And the Freys - unpleasant, certainly, and sadly not nearly as pretty as the rest of Westeros** but not evil, right? Just self-important.  Just a bit "ooh we've got these big over-compensating towers that you need to get past for your war".  I mean, they're not Lannisters.  Wrongity wrong wrong wrong.  

And that's what makes the Red Wedding one of the most shocking events in a book and television series that revels in shocking events: it's done out of sheer pettiness - because Walder Frey was going to have to settle for the uncle of a king instead of a king.  And, for my money, the show got it mostly right.  The payoff, interestingly, didn't come until Catelyn's death in the very last scene; for a horrible, underwhelming moment, I thought they were going to leave it with Robb dropping to the floor covered in arrows and not show us the rest.  In a series known for its violence, this was certainly extravagant with the old Kensington Gore, but it was right to be so: a lesser show might have 'artistically' panned away, tried to give its characters some dignity in their dying moments.  Fortunately, the Game of Thrones team understand that the horror in this case comes precisely from that lack of dignity, the naked brutality of Catelyn slashing the throat of an innocent woman before exploding into a gushy red fountain herself.  I mean, Jesus Christ on a dragon, the massacre was commenced by stabbing a pregnant woman in her stomach.  And given the reworking and focus that's been given to Robb's Non-Canonical Wife, it felt completely...well, not appropriate, but you know.  Appropriately awful.  And unexpected - in the book, Robb's Canonical Wife is not present at the wedding and has currently vanished off to some unknown fate (i.e. I can't remember what happened to her).

The obvious parallel is with Ned's death way back in Series 1 (and how did we not see that coming when, y'know, Sean Bean).  Back then, I was like you, Casual Viewer.  After Series 1 I decided to read the books so television could never hurt me like that again.  Anyway, as well as milking the obvious Stark-dies-because-honour-goddammit connection, there was also all of that "Don't you want to teach little Ned Stark to ride?" stuff and, for fuck's sake HBO, do you ever maybe think about pulling your punches? Cruel.  The final emotional KO was Roose Bolton delivering the killing stab to a somehow-still-standing-despite-resemblance-to-a-secretary-bird (look it up) Robb Stark, echoing the moment when Littlefinger turned on Ned way back when hope was still alive, delivering him to his Lannister-y fate.  Very well done to all involved.

Having said that, it's a difficult episode to evaluate on its own merits.  I spent the whole thing knowing what was about to happen and I suspect that if I hadn't, I would have thought it was dragging a bit.  Danaerys seemed out of a place in an episode that should have been Stark-centric and was presumably only in there as misdirection so that the events of the Red Wedding came completely out of left field.  I was right about Ser Jorah's reactions to Daario though; for every "Khaleesi before personal pride" lecture he gives Ser Barriston, he definitely picks the petals off a daisy going, "Khaleesi loves me, Khaleesi loves me not".  Part of the problem is that Iain Glen is much more sympathetic than the character is probably supposed to be and I don't think I'm alone in kind of rooting for him.  Still, Dany's on a high as she adds a new city to her ever-growing collective (please don't ask me which one though, I'm so confused about everything east of Westeros, I've given up trying), in welcome contrast to, well, everyone else this week.

Elsewhere, Jon Snow's Great Wildling Adventure came to an end as he chose to reveal himself rather than kill an innocent man, proving yet again that Starks are absolute darlings and also total fucking idiots.  As with Robb and his Late Non-Canonical Wife, the Jon/Ygritte storyline has been mixed, I think, without the extensive passing of time that you get in the book (it's one of my favourite storylines in the series and thus there is a bit of readership bias here), allowing you to see the slow confusion of Jon's once black-and-white morals.  It's all been a bit quick, really, and not helped by the fact that Kit Harrington and Rose Leslie are right poshos in real life and the catchphrase heavy scenes aren't helping the feeling that they vaguely heard someone from Yorkshire talking once and just working-classed it up a bit (I won't miss having to hear "Jon Sneeeeeuw" dragged over far too many syllables ever again).  Perhaps that's why Ygritte's silent half-furious half-soulful gaze as Jon Snow hauled ass back to the Night's Watch was by far the most touching their relationship has ever been.  And a sad farewell to Mackenzie Crooke, who also kicked it in this episode, and was sadly underused while he was alive.  Although before he died, he did deposit his soul in that of his pet bird, so hopefully next season will yield us Mackenzie Crooke in a giant bird outfit when they run out of money after all the CGI dragons.

Some surprisingly touching stuff coming from Bran's storyline as well.  Bran has an easy to ignore storyline, I find, given that it's the most overtly Lord of the Rings-y (good guys on magical quest, much walking and hiding from bad people).  Not only does Natalia Tena continue to be consistently excellent as Osha, we can add Art Parkinson as Rickon to the show's ever-explanding list of brilliant child actors.  His tearful insistence that he needed to take care of Bran was the moment of the episode that brought me closest to welling up, rather than the bloody events further south.  Saddest of all, Rickon and Osha are now departing from the merry jaunt across the Wall, leaving us only with Brandon "Did I mention I can't walk today?" Stark, Jojen "Jailbait" Reed, Meera "This Show Has One Too Many Badasses" Reed and Hodor "Hodor"Hodor.  We may not see Osha and Rickon again for a while, so valar dohaeris and all that and I really bloody hope you're the Stark that survives, Rickon.

Speaking of child actors, though, Maisie Williams is taking everyone to school.  It's largely down to her performance that she's become the kind of unofficial mascot/protagonist of the show; the best comment that cropped up on my Facebook feed regarding the episode was, "I hope that little transvestite girl kills the Jesus out of everyone." As do we all, Arya, as do we all.  But for all that she's popular because we like the idea of a little kid being unflinching and killing people and whatnot (god, we are terrible people), this episode very much showed us how (mercifully) far Arya has to go before she becomes hardened to it, still prizing life more dearly than the majority of Westeros' population.  But also not afraid to hit an old man round the head with a branch because he wakes up at the wrong time.  That's why we love Arya.  And after her witnessing of and disappearance from the Red Wedding, her storyline's only just getting good.

After their absence from, yet crucial part in, this week's episode, I'm guessing things'll be a little more Lannister-heavy next week for the series finale.  Aside from Sansa getting the news, I don't want to make any guesses about what they'll wheel out and what they'll keep in the bag for next season because a) I genuinely don't know at this point, I thought they were going to end Series 3 with the Red Wedding in the finale and b) it would be hilariously spoileriffic and I'd rather not be chased down by angry Casual Viewers who have acquired too many ideas from watching Game of Thrones.  Just give me some Brienne and Jaime to see me through to next year.  Curse you, show, and curse all the emotions you have forced into my bitter, dead heart.

*Obligatory, "NO-ONE CARES ABOUT THE GREYJOYS."

*Mad props to my boy Tom Brooke stabbing a pregnant woman in the stomach though.  As Lothar Frey.  Not just as Tom Brooke.  That would be bad.

True Romance: 'The Name of the Doctor' (Doctor Who) and 'Second Sons' (Game of Thrones) Reviews

Author's Note: As you can probably tell, I wrote my Doctor Who review immediately after seeing the episode (for the third time).  Game of Thrones, on the other hand, has taken me a week to get round to watching, hence the lateness of this review.

Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 7: The Name of the Doctor

Oh Stephen.  I know I say this every year but I swear, I'll never doubt you again.  It was only when my brain had stopped playing the word "WHAT" on a loop and I'd drunk a substantial amount at a Eurovision party that I realised what a truly fantastic episode this was.

I'll admit, a large part of this conclusion came from the cessation of my hyperventilating-y thoughts of OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU TAKING MATT SMITH AWAY FROM ME because, rationally, let's look at the facts: a) We know he's in the 50th anniversary special and b) I don't really believe John Hurt is going to take over full-time as Doctor Number Twelve.  There was that mention of the Valeyard early on in the episode that seems like a great big honking clue: for those unaware, the Valeyard was (in Old Who) the Doctor's final regeneration gone all evil and introspective, basically.  Take that coupled with the closing dialogue about Hurt "not acting in the name of the Doctor", factor in the show's propensity for wordplay/riddles/literal language and it seems to me that, for all the talk of the 50th anniversary marking Matt Smith's regeneration, it could be just as much about resisting a regeneration.  For bonus evidence, the BBC released an interview of Tennant and Smith (together at last) in which Smith said that 10 and 11 seemed to get on pretty okay but there was Someone They Weren't Allowed To Talk About who was more bemused/annoyed by the two of them - given that Hurt was announced to be in the anniversary show months ago, I bet this is who they're talking about and he's sort of the Doctor but not.  Because he's the evil Valeyard guy.*

Although then again, I've just thought back to that "Introducing John Hurt as The Doctor" caption and have immediately doubted all of this. I mean, the Doctor lies though, right?  Let's move on before I devolve back into sobbing "please don't take away Matt Smith" again.**

Speaking of sobbing, I did.  I was all tarted up to dash off to the aforementioned Eurovision party the minute it finished and it was a good twenty minutes before I actually left the house because I was completely redoing my eye make-up.  River River River.  That was some pretty fucking glorious River.  Anyone who wants to disagree, let's take this outside, because that's my River - not clingy and dress size-y and smug, but brave and calm and brilliant.  The moment where the Doctor caught her hand and said "You're always here to me" literally made me drop my fork and neglect my delicious takeaway like a hilarious romcom moment.  We've had so much of the Doctor being superior to River, brushing her off, ignoring her etc etc that she was in danger of becoming just a running joke (Moffat thinks wives are annoying, no-one is surprised) - and it looked like that was how it was going for the first half of the episode too - so that whole dialogue ("I thought it would be too painful" "I think I could have coped" "For me") was possibly one of my favourite things this show has ever done.  All we wanted (me and my pal River) was some acknowledgement that she was in some way different to every other companion that heads through those doors, and we got it.  Sorry Amy, but I'm awarding the 'Girl Who Waited' badge to your daughter.  If that was River's final goodbye - and I suspect it was written so that Alex Kingston could or could not come back as the show demanded - it was a bloody good one.  Compliments all round.

Not least to the actors.  At least forty percent of my DON'T LEAVE ME MATT SMITH woe wasn't down to the frankly inexplicable level of attractiveness he manages to achieve on a weekly basis (this week's new Doctor-fetish: blindfolds) but to the fact that, unlike the rest of the show, he just gets better and better and better.  I mentioned a few weeks ago how he's undeniably a different Doctor to the one who shouted at baked beans that we started with; that came to beautiful fruition here with Smith skipping electrically along the spectrum from comedy to tragedy, and nailing it all the way.  He's so good I'm not even going to make a joke about wishing he would nail something else as well ifyouknowwhatImean.  There's not much I can say about his performance that I haven't said before, except that I am so so so looking forward to seeing how 10 and 11 interact, since 10's whole schtick was 'bouncy yuppy' and 11's whole schtick is kind of 'ancient old man fragility with the face of a twelve year old'.  I turn instead to the supporting cast: Vastra, Jenny and Strax once again prove themselves to be as able a TARDIS family as any ragtag bunch of misfits from the RTD era, and bring a substantial amount of human drama to the proceedings (which is impressive, considering that they're two-thirds cold-blooded). I even welled up a little when I thought Jenny was dead (which would have been a cruelly Whedon-esque move) and her "I'm so sorry, I think I've just been murdered" was chilling and heart-breaking in perfect measure.  Similarly, Strax and Vastra's "The heart is a simple thing", "I have not found it to be so"got me right in the feels - which only begs the question: if you can write like this, Moffat (see also above mention of Doctor/River dialogue), then why don't you, like, all the time?  It certainly silenced my inner Moffat-can't-do-characters demons.

And speaking of characters, this leads us, of course, to Clara, who deserves a special paragraph all of her own.  I was very satisfied with the resolution to the Clara mystery: the whole 'Impossible Girl' thing always seemed like a bit of a red herring.  Far more interesting were the moments when she was confirmed to be 'ordinary' - because that's really what companions are for, in the end, is to celebrate the capacity of the ordinary and everyday for heroism. My prediction was something along the lines of "Clara is just a normal girl being copied across space and time and ultimately the evidence will be all there in the TARDIS" and you know what? It kind of was.  Just, y'know, the burnt out shell of the future TARDIS.  But they were in it.  Oh shut up, I'm going to take that one, and there's nothing you can do about it.  The episode also seemed to clear up the hazy Clara-Doctor dynamic somewhat (maybe it was all that River in the air) with him saving her in a desperately parental way.  Hopefully now Jenna Louise Coleman can get her teeth into something with a bit more in the way of defined personality, because she bloody deserves to.

If I had to have a complaint it would be the villains, such as they were.  The Whispermen were very reminiscent of one of my favourite Buffy episodes/villains, the Gentlemen from 'Hush', complete with creepy nursery rhyme - so much so that it strikes me that writers of this show really need to stop presuming that the Atlantic Ocean magically stops the fans from being aware of Joss Whedon.  I felt like they didn't really get much of an outing, being an obvious red herring to deflect marketing attention away from THAT ENDING but maybe they'll pop up again in future with some extra creepy powers?  Let's hope so, it has been a while since we've had a vintage Moffat take-a-standard-fear-make-it-so-you'll-never-sleep-again villain.  The Great Intelligence was ultimately a bit of a letdown, really.  Contrary to my usual opinion about Doctor Who doing over-laboured story arcs (unfavourable, for those in doubt) I sort of felt he hadn't been signposted enough throughout the series, at least not enough for a Big Bad.  Still, ultimately none of it was really about that, was it? The greatest villain on the show, as always, is the Doctor himself.  Oh I am excite, please to make it November soonest.

So I'm calling it: best series finale of the Moffat era.  It didn't quite have the razzle-dazzle/ preposterousness self-regard of Series 6 mid-series finisher A Good Man Goes to War, but it didn't need it: I'm enjoying this quieter, more self-contained mode, and it gives the show a gravitas (if not a dignity) that allows it to strike exactly the right balance between silly and serious.

In conclusion, kids, it's going to be a very long summer.


Game of Thrones Series 3, Episode 7: Second Sons

The obvious centrepiece of this week was the hilarious and tragic Lannister-Stark wedding.  Lannister family events are understandably awkward occasions (all that inbreeding) but this was more so than usual, given that the nuptials were taking place between sensitive hedonist Tyrion and trembling sorority girl Sansa.

I do so enjoy it when the show takes the opportunity to play with its form a bit, especially Cersei and Loras's little moment under the stars.  In a show that excels in putting together unlikely characters and watching the magic, they set up a potential watercooler let-me-show-you-my-hidden-vulnerability moment, only to have Cersei snap "Nobody cares what your father says." Speaking for us all there, Cersei - I still haven't forgiven Loras for not being nearly as good-looking as the books say he is.  Cersei and Margaery's conversation was, similarly, fantasy's equivalent of Sex in the City, or maybe Hollyoaks.  "If you ever call me sister again, I'll have you strangled in your sleep," hisses Cersei at Margaery's perky breasts after the queen-to-be goes a step too far in advancing the Tyrell domestic policy of winning hearts and minds.  Indeed, Margaery was in danger of slipping more than just a nipple this week as Joffrey seems to be not quite so entirely under her spell as we've been led to believe, ignoring his mother's half-hearted attempt at parenting to go and deliver a casual rape threat to the newly wed Sansa Stark-Lannister.  My hatred of Joffrey has reached something like fascination - I'm too saturated with loathing to hate him more so I just wait in a state of something like awe to see what he'll do next.  He's like the Usain Bolt of sadism.  Just when you think he can't top leading Sansa up the aisle in lieu of headless Ned, he offers to come and help her out with her wifely duties later that night, only it's not an offer and I wanted to reach through the TV screen and make him drink his own spinal fluid.

Across the sea, Danaerys is still on a high as she wins a company of mercenaries over to her side (the Second Sons of the episode title).  Another deviation from the books here, with Daario coming in the guise of a character from an 80s-era children's fantasy film rather than the gold-toothed, purple-mustachioed swashbuckler of the books.  Given that Dany clearly has the hots for him (it's amazing what a gift of the severed heads of your enemies will do, I keep telling my dates that but they insist on getting me chocolate) it's probably for the best.  No reaction from Jorah as yet, but given how much I love Iain Glen's petulant little face as he intones "Khaleesi"in manner that is simultaneously bored and longing, I'm looking forward to it.  Quite a lot of nudity in Dany's storyline this week too - not only is there a requisite concubine getting pawed around, we get full on khaleesi-tits-and-arse too.  I don't know what I expected, to be honest - it is Game of Boners, after all - but the nudity count has been surprisingly light in recent weeks and setting that scene in her bath seemed particularly unnecessary.

The third main strand of the episode was probably just there to balance out the genders on the nudity front, to be honest, as Melisandre gets jiggy with Gendry, if your definition of getting jiggy is tying someone up and attaching leaches to their unmentionables.  I know it's mine.  The most interesting aspect of this strand, however, was the conversation between Stannis and Davos in the dungeons, as Stannis attempts awkward make-up sex with his bf (or just says he'll set him free, whatever).  Mainly this is because Stephen Dillane and Liam Cunningham are putting in such fucking good, understated performances.  The way Dillane plays Stannis, he's the guy at the party that there's nothing technically wrong with but no-one wants to hang out with and you just know he really, really wants to be your friend.  The tacit acknowledgment that Davos was right about maybe not murdering innocent boys was a thing of beauty, and Stannis' attempts to make everything ok again were painfully reminiscent of his stilted interactions with his wife and child a few weeks ago.

The episode was bookended by two more odd couples (alas, no Brienne and Jaime this week, though after last week's BE STILL MY BEATING HEART rescue, they deserve a breather). Firstly, Arya and the Hound reach a tentative detente after one little attempted rock-murder, as it transpires he may be her best hope of getting back to her family.  The show seems to be set on presenting Sandor Clegane in more and more of a sympathetic light of late - no complaints, I'm just intrigued as to what exactly do they know because he sort of disappears from the books at some point.  (Not much Littlefinger of late either - after delivering that stonking monologue about chaos, maybe he's gone out on a high? Ah well, the plot requires him back soon, I believe.)  Our other couple was Sam and Gilly, who have a beautiful - if not terribly exciting - equilibrium to their scenes, with Gilly building a fire while Sam thinks about baby names.  One White Walker attack later - heralded by some frankly much scarier crows - and the mysterious dragonglass seems to be coming in handy.  When you get to Westeros, Dany, you could make a packet on that alone.

All in all, an entertaining episode that had an enjoyably gossipy feel to it - lightweight in comparison to recent weeks, though tightly focused nonetheless.  Sadly there is no episode next week, which means I'll have to wait a full fortnight for my next Jon Snow/Brienne and Jaime fix.  It's a hard life.

This Week's Winner: Doctor Who in spades.  I keep just remembering bits and smiling a beatific smile. And then crying.


*The good people on the Guardian comments section seem to think he's not the Valeyard since he's already appeared in Old Who but instead maybe the very first incarnation who wasn't yet "the Doctor" (i.e. Matt Smith is the 11th Doctor but not the 11th regeneration) or the missing Time War Doctor who ended it by killing everyone and therefore acted for "peace" and "sanity" but not "in the name of the Doctor" - which would put an interesting spin on Christopher Ecclestone's tenure as he always seemed to take personal responsibility for the whole shebang but hey ho (actually thinking about it, this makes the most sense).  Either way, we're all agreed that Hurt is only along for the 50th anniversary ride and MATT SMITH IS NOT LEAVING, OK? OK.
**Right, well, I've just read that the Beeb have officially announced that Series 8 will air next year in split-series format with Matt Smith, Jenna-Louise Coleman and Stephen Moffat all returning BUT it will mark Moff's last tenure as head writer and possibly contain a mid-series regeneration. So now I just don't know what to feel.  I mean, on the one hand, more Smith/Moffat in the foreseeable future, on the other...all things must pass.  Fuck you, Doctor Who, I'm pretty sure I'm not meant to feel this existentialist about a children's show.

Robin Hood, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Really Bad TV Shows

Warning: contains heavy spoilers. But look at this like this, if you haven't seen the show, you're not going to watch it now. If you have seen the show, you already know what happens and you're definitely not going to watch it again. Also, I'll get back to Doctor Who soon. Promise.

In a state of the boredom/nostalgia/procrastination mash-up that I call Netflix Ennui, I wound up watching a few episodes of the BBC's 2006-2009 Saturday evening action adventure fare, Robin Hood. Or rather, re-watching. Y'see, I was a rather ardent fan of Robin Hood back in the day, until the third and final season when everything took a resounding nosedive from 'so bad it's good' to 'so bad it's oh god get it away my eyes my eyes'. Like, I really hope nobody from HBO ever watched this show, because I'm getting second-hand embarrassment just thinking about it. I was surprised to discover that there were quite a few things I'd forgotten about it, my memory consumed by the reckless shark-jumpitude of the final series. And it strikes me that the show had quite a lot of potential at the beginning, if it weren't for a few, damning things:

Things I Had Forgotten About Robin Hood That Fucked Up an Otherwise Solid Show:

• Robin strolls casually in and out of Nottingham, lounging around the town square and infiltrating the castle, week in, week out, with precisely zero effort to disguise himself. Nary a hood in sight. At one point, he rocks up in the Sheriff's bedchamber after dark for some light flirting and doesn't even tie him up or anything when he leaves. I mean – not like that – oh forget it. The point is, this is marginally plausible only because the Sheriff is clearly an unpredictable psychopath and one suspects he quite likes having Robin Hood around in his anachronistically tight trousers, but still doesn't explain why the eponymous hero made no effort to come up with a getaway plan beyond “Walk out of the castle, maybe wink at someone”.
• The attempts to make the setting 'relevant' and 'modern', despite the slight snag of being England in the 1100s. One of the things I do remember about the show is the clothes, which were a) bafflingly anachronistic (Marion in trousers, Marion's camouflage-print dress, Robin Hood being more Robin Hoodie ohIseewhattheydidthere, Guy of Gisbourne's leather daddy get-up, more on which later) and b) laughably cheap. I recognised jewellery from Primark and Accessorize more times than I could count. There's a kid in one episode who they just didn't seem to be able to find a costume for at all, I swear you can see the zip on his hoodie.
• The clothes were part of a wider problem, though, which was that the first series clearly just had no budget. It was filmed in Hungary for cheaps, which is all fine until you realise that the thing nagging away at you every time they cut to the forest is the awkwardly obvious lack of oak trees, i.e. the one thing that English forests are pretty pro at. It also means that 1100s England is full of clearly Hungarian extras who don't speak English, just nod with a look of polite confusion in their eyes. This reaches its nadir in the second episode when Allan a Dale's brother pitches up with two of his own men who have, we are told, had their tongues cut out. Why the script even called for the ill-fated Tom to have his own bros in the first place, I'm not sure, but the production damn well wasn't going to pay for them to have lines. Out with their tongues, cue baffled Eastern European locals looking uneasily from actor to actor, wondering who they're supposed to be agreeing with.
• The modernisation aspect also manifested itself through the camerawork. Each episode ends with a triumphant black and white freeze frame like an 80s brat pack movie. It's a bold move, and I'm not going to pretend it doesn't jar with the decision to film the rest of the show on shaky handycam, with a baffling over-reliance on dramatic zooms when a character is about to saying something profound. It feels slightly like the producers were trying to make it an actual mockumentary, before someone suggested that maybe that was a little too anachronistic, even for this show, and they hastily recut all the footage.

And Some Things It Did Ok:

• Women. Ok, it doesn't pass the Bechdel Test by a country mile, seeing as there are only two women in the whole of Nottingham, apparently, and I think they stand in a room together, like, once. Djaq, the Token Girl Outlaw, is pretty boss – all dressing up as her dead brother and doing Advanced Saracen Science and stuff – but I could have done without her horribly mangled love triangle that just sort of faded into a love...duangle in the second series, at the end of which she announces that she's staying in the Holy Land to take advantage of be-cheekboned jailbait Will Scarlett. And Marion is all kinds of smart and self-reliant – they actually make a pretty decent stab at a spy narrative for her, trying to work the system from the inside to protect her father, compromised loyalties, etc etc – of course, if the show had been made by HBO for grown-ups, instead of the BBC for families, it would have been much more sophisticated and also much more naked. C'est la vie. I also remember hating Marion with a passion when I was sixteen; watching now, I'm not entirely sure why. She's not a great actress, sure, but she's not offensively bad – about the same level of charisma vacuum as Robin himself, which fortunately means you can just ignore the romantic leads and get on with the business of the fine supporting cast.
• And I do mean fine. This is something the show did gloriously right – I swear to god, the burgeoning knowledge of my sexuality that was triggered in my youth by Johnny Depp diving off a cliff in Pirates of the Caribbean was completed here by Richard Armitage swaggering around in black leather and guy-liner*, pinning Marion against castle walls** saying things like “Do you not understand? You mean everything to me”, all accompanied by a gaze so smouldering that you could see the stone melting behind her head. Normally when you have a dastardly villain trying to run off with a blushing damsel, you applaud the hero swooping in on a rope to save her. Richard Armitage, on the other hand, would go around casually stabbing peasants and you'd just think, “Oh, well, he probably had a really difficult childhood.” Maybe that was why Marian was such a terrible actress. Could you keep your sang-froid convincingly in the face of all that?
• And it wasn't just Guy either. Long before I was making jokes about Merlin's Knights of the Round Table being a kind of Medieval Boy Band, the Outlaws were hanging around the forest posing for passing paparazzi (“Just a quick woodcut, be a darling”). Robin is ok in a Justin-Bieber-wishes-he-was-more-grunge sort of way but the show kept insisting that Robin was the most bodacious bachelor Sherwood had ever seen by having women throw themselves at him every two seconds, when this was clearly nonsensical because dude, Alan a Dale and Will Scarlett are right there. Actually, Will Scarlett was my favourite before I saw the light glinting off Guy's black leathers, and then his “What is this thing you call a girl, let me turn my head so you can see the way the shadows fall against my cheekbones, no I don't think my eyes can get any more big or green, I didn't realise my bottom lip was trembling” schtick got a bit wearisome. Alan had to become my favourite in the third series because everyone else good had gone and Guy's hair had taken a drastic turn for the worst, but his twinkly-eyed nonsensically-cockney conman routine was really very diverting – besides, he briefly dumps Will for Guy in the second series and starts wearing black so we're very much on the same page for a variety of reasons.

So thinking about it, maybe the best thing the show did was to arrange a buffet of attractive actors. But hey, that's not be sniffed at – there was clearly something that kept us watching through the bad times and the very bad. I'm inclined to pin it on the accidental sexual tension that seemed to emerge between every single character at some point (I'm talking a Sherlock level of possible permutations), but especially the Guy-and-Marion thing which, by the way, isn't really in the script at all but when you cast Richard Armitage, you cast a tsunami of hormones too. That's probably the area of the script that had most potential: a woman torn between her childhood love that she still carries a torch for, an outlaw on the run, any day could be his last, and a dangerous new man, brooding, cruel, but with a fascinating spark of good in him, a desire for redemption that only she holds the key to, complicated by the fact that he could be the only man truly capable of protecting her. Fuck, that sounds like a good show. I think I might write it. Sadly, the Guy/Marian/Robin triangle came to a rather undignified end when Guy ran her through with a sword that was in no way phallic at the end of Series 2.

The thing is though, I wouldn't want it to be any different. The reality is that if the bad things had been fixed, it still wouldn't have been a great show. It just would have been a much, much more boring one.

*This is actually a really good joke as his character's name was Guy of Gisbourne.

**Oh, maybe that's why I hated her.

No Contest: 'Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS' (Doctor Who) and 'Kissed By Fire' (Game of Thrones) Reviews

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Ancestral Voices Prophesying War: 'Cold War' (Doctor Who) and 'Walk of Punishment' (Game of Thrones) Reviews

War is in the air on both shows this week.  I can't think of a better linking factor than that, so let's plunge in.

Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 3: Cold War

Well, that was cracking.  That was like Das Boot collided with Alien* via The Thing.  Captained by Davos Seaworth.**

In a continuation of what I have been saying about the show getting all nostalgic about itself, what with the anniversary coming up, we got a revisiting of a classic Who monster this week, the Ice Warrior(s).  And boy, is it working.  Not just the resurrection of an old foe, but the return to 'Monster of the Week' done right - dark corridors, increasing body count, tense stand-off, obvious yet well-conceived metaphor.  This episode also embraced the best of New Who as well by delivering a couple of twists on the old formula - instead of the West, we land on a Russian sub (cue lots of fun with actors shouting "DAMMIT, ONEGIN" and "PIOTR IS IN THE HOLD, COMRADE" at each other), and instead of a suited and booted Ice Warrior, we get a pair of disembodied and touchingly non-CGI claws dangling from the ceiling like the crane in an arcade game.  It was both scary and fun, serious and tongue-in-cheek - in beverage terms, it was a lovely cuppa.

Last week's 'Warm Respect' on the Clara-o-meter is rising swiftly towards 'Soppy Adolescent Puppy Love'.  Is it just me, or is she the first companion in a good long while to actually react like a person?  Her anxieties over negotiating the peace treaty (it was a test, we all know it was a test, Doctor, you have failed at subtlety***), being struck by the realness of the eviscerated bodies as the Doctor dashes off to do something sonic-y because bodies are ten a penny to him, her agreement to actually stay put when told, her tentative mention of Skaldak's daughter - it was all beautifully conceived and acted.  Mad props to Jenna-Louise Coleman, and mad props to Mark Gatiss for knowing how to write Watson right (I guess he's had practice).  Of course, if I am being really and truly honest (and what better place for that than the internet, right?) I know the real reason I like Clara is because she behaves the way I would behave.  The way I suspect most of us would behave, in fact - scared and stupid and making jokes to deflect the mindfuck of the whole TIME-TRAVELLING SPACE ALIEN thing, and just occasionally sharp enough or human enough to spot something important, save the day and comment on it - who wouldn't want to say the words "We save the world" as much as humanly possible? And then hug it out afterwords.  Naturally.****  The whole 'impossible' parallel lives thing is incidental - Clara is good enough to watch on her own merit, and that really is special.

I can't quite work out her relationship with The Doctor yet though.  Most Doctor-Companion dynamics are played as analogies for romantic relationships, if not out and out cases of sexual tension, and while he seems very keen to impress her, there's a sense in which she's something of a specimen because of her time-and-space-and-death-defying tendencies.  That hug at the end was a little bit fatherly, a little bit grandfatherly, and a little bit something else that makes this a very bloody interesting dynamic to watch unfold.  Long may it continue, I say, and drive us all mad with the ambiguity.

The supporting cast was equally excellent.  Tobias Menzies on excellent cheekbone-sharp form as dour, trigger-happy Stepashin - my only complaint is that he copped it too soon, I would have liked to see him team up with Skaldak for some good old-fashioned murder funtimes.  David Warner was likewise underused, I felt, which is only testament to how excellent he was when he got the chance.  I did keep waiting for him to turn into the villain, though, which is maybe Hollywood's fault.  Liam Cunningham is now no longer allowed to play anything except gruff yet ultimately trustworthy sea captains, and long may he reign.  Props, too, to the rest of the sub's suspiciously young, nubile seamen (tee hee hee).

Menzies and Warner's lack of resolution is a symptom of Gatiss episodes in general though: the pay-off is never quite good enough to live up to the excellent situations he creates.  All three of his episodes in the Moffat era have now ended with the villain essentially being talked down and told to be a nicer person ('Victory of the Daleks', Amy convinces Bill Paterson that it's much nicer to be a human than a Dalek robot, and 'Night Terrors', the Doctor tells Daniel Mays to tell his alien son not to be scared).  Gatiss writes people and dialogue excellently, with warmth and heart, and has an excellent eye/nose/ear for the grotesque and absurd but his plotting leaves something to be desired and there's always a point at which his episodes become Scooby-Doo-scary rather than Moffat-scary.  He's been named as a potential successor to the Blessed St Stephen, but I don't see it.  I'm just not sure his imagination is Doctor Who-shaped - it's all a bit too clever sometimes, but without the flare for spectacle that lets Moffat get away with it.  All a bit too grown up, in other words.

But this is a general reflection, and the oddly prescient eighties setting (heaven knows what they would have done with any Thatcher references) coupled with the chilling motif of mutually assured destruction worked on Gatiss' terms.  I do wonder how many seven year olds were nodding along going, "Yes, of course, because the SALT talks failed in 1979 after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan" but hey ho (yes, I know actual history, not just fictional history).  It was a beautiful analogy for how we relate to the unknown, and I suspect Clara's central role in the episode - despite spending much of it waiting backstage, as it were - was due to this.  Lots of funny jokes about Ultravox too.

This may well have been Gatiss' best effort yet, though I'll always harbour a soft spot for Series 1's 'The Unquiet Dead' (Chris Eccleston telling Simon Callow's Dickens that he's a huge fan while in a hansom cab fleeing walking corpses).  He seems to be on a winning streak, actually, after ending Sherlock on such a flawless, ovary-destroying high.  Thus far the series continues to shine in its embrace of its own Glorious History (a mention of Susan last week, and I've just confirmed my suspicion that the HADS was an Old Who concept via the magic of Google).  We know there are Gaiman-retooled Cybermen coming up in a few weeks' time, and an exploration of the TARDIS interior even sooner than that.  Best of all, I've just found out that River Song will be dropping by for snogs and adventure in the series finale, also including a new Moffat villain called the Whispermen.  I'm expecting a barnstormer here, and for once I don't feel over-optimistic about hoping.


Game of Thrones Series 3, Episode 3: Walk of Punishment

And punishment was very much our theme this week with the episode ending on an event I've been strenuously and determinedly not spoiling for anyone who hasn't read the books: Jaime bids a sudden farewell to his right hand.  How great are Jaime and Brienne? Very bloody great is the answer, with their sulky bickering sitting back to back on a horse turning inch by inch towards a mutual respect so grudging it leaves skid marks.  They're finding each other's sensitive spots too, with Brienne asserting that Jaime's best days are behind him (boy, is she prescient) and Jaime suggesting getting raped might go over easier if she imagines it's her Dead Gay King.  Jaime rides in with the most casual rescue imaginable later on (metaphorically, he's chained to a tree), preventing said rape by pointing out she could be ransomed for a hefty sum, then hedging his bets and playing for his own release too, which comes off considerably less well.  Don't worry, it's all character development.  They're Not So Different After All.

Elsewhere in Westeros, the worlds of Doctor Who and Game of Thrones continue to collide with Tobias Menzies showing up again as family fuck-up Edmure Tully.  I don't think the Tullys are really anyone's favourite (their sigil is a fish) but Menzies manages to make the family trait of self-righteousness-in-the-face-of-overwhelming-evidence-of-just-being-wrong sort of endearing, especially as he faces a double dressing down by both his nephew King Robb (what happened to you, man? You used to be cool) and his uncle Brynden Blackfish (an excellently cast Clive Russell - but then, they're all excellently cast).  Actually, Robb recovered a little of his equilibrium this week, without Robb's Non-Canonical Wife to weigh him down - even GRR Martin himself, a man who, after all, is not known for his restraint, kept Jeyne Westerling (Robb's Canonical Wife) largely off the page, knowing that we want to see the King in the North being...well, a king.  One of the successes of that storyline in the books is that what might play out as a tale of love defying fate elsewhere becomes a rash and foolhardy act when viewed in the context of Westeros' special brand of pointy-stick-orientated politics.  The television series' greatest misstep so far has been to take the first view of it, and it sticks out like a chopped off hand.

We're back with Dany again this week, who I'm guessing is cooking up some punishments of her own and developing some much-needed steel ("All men must die.  But we are not men.") as Ser Jorah "Friendzoned" Mormont and Ser Barristan "Obi Wan" Selmy vie for first dibs on the advising.  We get Jorah's pragmatism v Barristan's romanticism; which one will Dany choose?  Well, I already know because I've read the books.  But it's really good.  Anyway, one of the few moments when knowing the series came at a disadvantage as I was desperately hoping we'd get to see Dany's next actions in the same episode but no dice.  Instead, dragon-selling.

Negotiations and machinations took centre stage actually, despite the highest-thus-far injury count (dead slaves, dead horses, dead soldiers, near-rape, Jaime's hand) as we returned to King's Landing for some more Government 101 - this week, finance!  Always good news as it means my pal Littlefinger will be smarming about somewhere (sounding this week like he's lost his voice, but smarming really takes its toll on a person); we get him and Tyrion expounding two very salient views on how to manage a country's finances, it's either "make the numbers dance, fuck the consequences" (Littlefinger) or "really really don't borrow money you know you can't pay back" (Tyrion).  Topical.  Anyone else automatically assume Littlefinger had paid off Podrick Payne's frighteningly flexible prostitutes himself as a means of transferring the debt and being owed a favour? Or was it actually just an opportunity for Peter Dinklage to show us how good he is at being wry and Pod really is a sex wizard?  Anyway, Littlefinger's off to the Vale to woo Lysa "Thousand Yard Stare" Arryn and put his own nefarious plots into practice.  Personally, I hope he gets a spin off.*****

A quick round-up of the rest then.  Stephen Dillane continues to be excellent as Stannis Baratheon, who - next to Daenerys Targaryen - probably has the best actual claim to the Iron Throne yet is a proper hardline bastard, like.  "I want to see Joffrey dead," he says, to the ringing sound of no-one anywhere arguing.  Maybe if he just put a wall up around Dragonstone and took a few days off with Davos and Melisandre, he'd be a bit happier.  Certainly happier than pondering whether he's ready to spill his child's blood for the throne, after Melisandre rejects his advances. ("It would kill you," she says.  Now that's body confidence.)  Not much over the Wall, just more opportunities for Jon Snow to look conflicted and adorable as everyone continues to want to either hug him or slap him or maybe both at the same time, as Ciaran Hinds orders the Wildings off to war against the Night's Watch.  Aforementioned Night's Watch continue to bully Sam Tarly as they return to the home of the monstrous Craster (blimey, it's a good thing I've read the books or it would be really hard keeping all these bearded old white guys straight - I don't want to sound racist but they all look the same).  I spotted Burn Gorman amongst them today too, aka Owen from Torchwood, for whom I have always had a soft spot despite his propensity for playing unpleasant little squits.  No Davos or Joffrey or Margaery this week (boo) and no Sansa or Bran either (some kind of noise that is like shrugging, only noise), with only the briefest of Greyjoys (have a drink on me, show), but really I only notice who wasn't there when I'm writing these blogs and cannot make inappropriate comments about them - another testament to how well balanced this show is.

What really made this episode stand out, though, was the little moments.  There must have always been a temptation to hurtle through the books at breakneck speed, cramming in as many events as possible (including quite a few broken necks), but the series has now fully established itself as an entity in its own right, going at its own pace.  The fact that it can afford to lie back and toss us a delightful scene about Podrick Payne being a sex genius or Hot Pie baking unconvincing wolf bread for Arya (reminding me that Gendry is one of my many favouritest characters ever in the process) is fantastic.  It also brings an actual sense of suspense to a series where, largely, I know what happens: these characters are different, and stand on their own two feet quite apart from their book counterparts.  Because of slight but clever deviations from the source material, I'm genuinely not sure where the whole Theon and Simon from Misfits thing is going, though I have grave (and gruesome) suspicions - likewise Arya and Gendry's jaunt through Sherwood Forest with the Merry Men.  Sorry, Brotherhood Without Banners (but really now).  All in all, another great episode that displays a consummate skill for storytelling.  Is it next week yet?

This week's winner: Argh.  I am starting to see the flaw in trying to compare an episodic piece of new writing with a serialisation of familiar source material, but let it never be said that I don't commit to my bad ideas.  'Cold War' was certainly some of Gatiss' best work yet, and a great showcase for Clara, but with some plot and pacing problems.  'Walk of Punishment' wasn't quite as entertaining as last week's episode, but contained some things I've been desperately hanging on to see and some lovely added bonuses too.  Really difficult, but I'm going to say 'Cold War' just pips it - we already know Game of Thrones is excellent television but I'm still waiting for it to blow me out the water, whereas Doctor Who reached a rare level of sophistication.  Beautiful work on both sides.


*I've just checked and the Guardian's Doctor Who blog has used the exact same comparison minus The Thing, which is a) unsurprising as it's a very good comparison but b) extremely annoying so you'll have to take it on faith that I got there first, and the The Thing reference is all my own work.
**I can only assume his absence from this week's Game of Thrones can be explained by the note he left on Stannis' pillow saying "Gon 2 cptn sub.  BRB.  Miss u.  Davs. xoxo"
***Also a callback to the Christmas episode dialogue on the roof - this is the second occasion that Our Clara has echoed something one of Other Claras has said.
****Totally called that Skaldak's daughter thing, btdubs.  In fact, it's what I would have done.  I definitely would not have, say, whimpered in a corner and then propositioned Matt Smith in light of our impending deaths.
*****With Pete Campbell.  You would definitely watch that gameshow.

All the Feelings: 'The Rings of Akhaten' (Doctor Who) and 'Dark Wings, Dark Words' (Game of Thrones) Reviews

Two very different episodes, two very loud cries of fangirlish glee.  Television is definitely better than people.

Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 2: The Rings of Akhaten

I'll say it now, there's no way I'm reviewing this episode objectively.  It was strongly reminiscent of 2007's 'Gridlock' (David Tennant, kittens), not only in aesthetic terms but in my reaction to it, i.e. I know it was in all honesty not the best but SINGING and THE DOCTOR and A CUTE THING and OVERTLY MESSIANIC SPEECHES and come on now, so many points for trying.  I swear to god, I would have teared up if I hadn't been watching with my mum, who has a very low tolerance threshold for sci-fi and fantasy.  When I showed her the trailer for The Hobbit, she giggled uncontrollably and asked me what Martin Freeman thought he was doing, to which I huffily replied, "HE'S GOING ON AN ADVENTURE."

Well, I was right about one thing: the episode started with the Doctor delving into Clara's past like a box of delicious chocolates.  Presumably no-one has ever told the writers of this show that there are potentially bad connotations to allowing a man whose face is able to twist into seemingly infinite contortions to sit behind a Beano and a pair of NHS specs staring fixedly at young children because Matt Smith + Children = Always Everything Good Ever.  Children are a bit of a recurring theme for Moffat, clearly, and not just the "wait here, I'll be back in ten years" trope.  If you can talk to children, you're good news in the Whoniverse - in Nicholas Sparks adaptations it's boats, here it's children.  (Sorry Mark Kermode, I stole your joke.)  On the one hand, it's a way of reminding all of the intensely-gazing mouth-breathers watching (it's only okay when I say it) that this is a children's show and do try not to crash the internet on your way out, but on the other hand it's often written with a knowingness that belies the adult perspective it's being written from and for - I think it's now obligatory for every child that turns up on Doctor Who to Teach The Doctor A Valuable Lesson and Be Very Unimpressed By Him Because Children Are Discerning.  I'm thinking more of the mini-prequal Moffat wrote (here) than this episode because, to be fair, the Queen of Years was more straight up creepy.

Speaking of children and growing and changing and whatever other spurious segue I can make here, it was a rite of passage this week, as Clara took her first trip into space.  I always wondered why more companions don't go for the 'back in time' option, personally, but then again I've had my first TARDIS trip planned since I was seventeen ("The South Bank 1599, leave off the brakes and I'll tip extra"*). Clara continues to grow on me, with Jenna-Louise Coleman elegantly avoiding the pitfall of choosing between 'smart' and 'kind' and instead showing herself to be extremely adept at both.  This bodes badly for the blog, of course, as I am generally only able to convey either extreme rage and/or despair (Amy) and extreme worship and/or lust (River Song).  Currently Clara lies somewhere along this axis at a point marked "warm respect".  But, y'know, I warmly respect the hell out of her.

So yes, I know the pacing was all wrong and the plot was predictable but it was comfy - it felt, again and at long last, like a proper episode.  It had aliens called Doreen and Indiana Jones references and a child in peril and obligatory alien forehead bumps and Matt Smith stood in front of a big orange glowy thing and said things that hit all the right spots** about stories and how we were all forged in the heart of a star and days that will never come being infinite and all that overreaching, grandiose bollocks that shouldn't work but really, really really does.  I love Doctor Who most when it forgets that it should just be a funny Saturday tea time show.  I love the fact that the people making it so clearly and earnestly believe in its importance, and I love how readily this is accepted by the people that watch it.  I love it because it takes everything that just shouldn't work, shoves it into a blender and shrugs majestically when it works, and when it doesn't.  Maybe I'm feeling sentimental because the show is approaching its 50th anniversary but it's episodes like this, largely underwhelming yet still able to pull off moments of frankly hubristic grandeur, that prove its uniqueness.  All in all, a showcase of the most familiar comforts of Who.

On a similar note, I just watched this trailer for the 50th Anniversary Special comprised of bits of all eleven Doctors and now I'm crying.  Crying.  Like, actual tears.  At a trailer.  I fear I may be blind by the end of the real thing.


Game of Thrones Series 3, Episode 2: Dark Wings, Dark Words

Because I am cold and heartless, I don't give many fucks about Bran and his Whiny Quest of Leglessness, so it was with a sinking sensation that I watched the opening of this week's episode.  However, I am glad to report I had not accounted for several things:

a) Bran has, hilariously, hit puberty in the, er, week between when we last saw him and now.
b) Bran who is, I say again, going through puberty, dreams about his brothers (it's only okay when I do it).
c)  Bran also has Jojen Reed turning up in his dreams, missing 'enigmatic' by a country mile and landing squarely on 'fucking smug'.  So it's at least faithful to the books, then.

Even better, when Jojen turns up for realsies later on (accompanied by his sister Meera, who is awesome), everything he says sounds like a come-on. "What else did you see?" asks Bran throatily, discussing second sight with his new bro.  "The only thing that matters," says Jojen staring into his eyes.  "You."  That's not fanfiction.  That's the script.  Who knows, Bran's Whiny Quest of Leglessness Now With Added Homoeroticism may become my favourite part of the series.

Anyway, after a scene with the second least interesting Starks (Robb and Catelyn***), in which the writers desperately try to justify Robb's Wife as a character, there comes the first real thrill of the episode: everyone's favourite odd couple, Jaime "Family First" Lannister**** and Brienne "Of" Tarth.  Hi Jaime and Brienne!  Hello also to Jamie's accent, which is rejoining us after a brief holiday.  It must have been hard for Jaime, growing up as the incongruously Scandinavian Lannister sibling.  Gifts of herring every feast day when the others get cloaks and swords and the like.  Anyway Jaime's game plan as of this moment seems to be a Westeros variant on "Are we there yet?" leaving poor, put-upon Brienne to shout that so help her, if she has to come back there, she will turn around back to Harrenhal and there will be no sexual tension for anybody.  His back up plan seems to be a Westeros variant on "lol u fancied Renly he was gay", but hey, it's working.  Just sit back and watch the magic happen.

Joffrey and Cersei next and, worryingly, I think I'm actually starting to enjoy Joffrey's scenes.  Then again, he has not yet forced prostitutes to beat each other this series, so there's still time.  Essentially, he acts exactly how every teenage king ever would and has acted times a factor of a thousand dicks.  Shae counsels Sansa on the wisdom of forming an alliance with a dude who sleeps with a lock of your mother's hair under his pillow.  Three seasons in and Sansa's gaydar is still not functional as she starts batting her eyelids at Loras "Rough Trade" Tyrell before being led off to tea with Margaery Tyrell and her grandmother, Diana Rigg.  Lady Di is, as always, a treat and I'm very much enjoying Natalie Dormer's scheming, butter-wouldn't-melt Margaery (in all seriousness, one of the things the series does very well is take the non-point of view characters from the books and go "fuck that ambiguity").  The later scene between Joffrey and Margaery is frankly brilliant, as Margaery starts to unpick what poor romantic Sansa never could, i.e. how to control a petulant teenage psychopath with near-absolute political power, using only a crossbow and some cleavage.

Not only did we get Diana Rigg this week but another pleasing addition to the cast in the form of Mackenzie Crooke doing Ambiguous Wildling Animal Magic.  One of the strengths of the series (both book and television) is how sparing it is with the magic - so sparing, in fact, that I occasionally forget about it altogether but being reminded by Mackenzie Crooke's nigh-on Lovecraftian features is perfectly acceptable.  Anyway, here he is alongside Jon Snow's girlfriend casting yet another withering look in Jon Snow's bewildered direction.  Bless, it's not his fault - no-one ever sat him down to explain the birds and the bees, as demonstrated by a long and actually pretty well done scene between Catelyn and Robb's Wife of which the gist was "oh man Jon Snow he ruins everything and basically we're all going to die now".  Cut to Jon Snow's lower lip quivering several hundred miles north of there.  His Woobie Sense is tingling.

But there's not much time to dwell on Jon Snow and his implausibly tousled hair because ARYA!  Damn, girl, where have you been?  I've had to sit through, like, five Sansa scenes already. Anyway in her three odd minutes of screen time, Arya manages to be at least thirteen times more awesome than anyone except Tyrion, encountering the Brotherhood Without Banners (apparently some kind of eco-terrorist organisation in this incarnation, led by Paul Kaye, another winning casting choice) without flinching.  Well, last season she did make time in her busy schedule of kicking ass and taking names to give to Faceless Men for one on one chats with Tywin Lannister.  Speaking of Lannisters, I thought we were a bit Tyrion-light, though as I said last week, we won't be seeing everyone regularly from here on out (no Dany either, surprisingly).  HBO has shown stunning good sense thus far in not inflicting on us more time with the Greyjoys than is strictly necessary - just a brief glimpse of Theon being tortured, and given spurious hope by Simon from Misfits, and I don't think anyone will be complaining about that.  Anyhow, sneaking in at 37 minutes is Tyrion who manages to be a total boss even when a prostitute is squeezing his face with one hand.

Back to Brienne and Jaime for the final treat, I didn't think we'd get to see them fight so early in the series.  It is, as expected, excellently and believably done, in part because Jaime insists on commentating like that one irritating kid playing football at school, in part because Brienne rolls her eyes and advances on him almost casually, only to be stopped by a brace of Boltons looking for Jaime's head.  End of episode.

All in all, an extremely satisfying affair.  Still not quite the balls-to-the-wall-awesome I'm waiting for but it's early days yet.  Like the series opener, there was a lot to set up, new characters to introduce, etc but there were also enough returning favourites (Brienne, Meera, ARYA) and unfavourites made palatable (Bran) that I enjoyed it start to finish.  The plotlines were juggled beautifully, the scene shifts were seamless, the dialogue was as (nay, more) impressive than the action and the performances were pretty flawless.  Keep it up, Game of Thrones, this is frighteningly good stuff.


This week's winner: Game of Thrones.  It was tough one because 'The Rings of Akhaten' had me feeling all the feelings there ever were, but I know in my heart it was a ropey episode with a few good set pieces.  'Dark Wings, Dark Words', on the other hand, had accelerated enough to be consistently excellent all the way through with its series of odd-couples, and, with all of the players now in place, marks the recommencing of the game fo' srs.  Makes you just want a grab and sword and kill something, really.

*I am aware that Martha Jones has somewhat stolen my thunder on this one, but I do an excellent impression of someone who doesn't know that Martha Jones ever existed.  The main difference is that they're smiling.
** I meant emotional spots, you perverts.
***This is unfair.  I forget Sansa.
****I toyed with Jaime "I'll Slay Your King" Lannister, but it's really hard to communicate the subtle intonation of the innuendo over the internet.

From Small Beginnings: 'The Bells of St John' and 'Valar Dohaeris' Reviews

For absolutely no discernible reason other than that I misplaced my last bit of social shame the other week and am now gunning for the title 'Queen of the Nerds' with terrifying sincerity, I'm going to be reviewing Doctor Who and Game of Thrones alongside each other every week for the next ten weeks in order to settle the age old question that literally tens of productive members of society have asked: sci-fi or fantasy?  Well, how else to celebrate the fact that Easter weekend has clearly won at television and all other personified calendar dates should just go home?  (Spoilers, obvz, though I'll keep book spoilers for GoT to a minimum.)

Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 1: The Bells of St John
I immediately want to dock points here because 'Series 7, Part 2, Episode 1'? It's a show about a man in a box.  Let's not get above ourselves.

Having said that, I watched this episode in a state of apprehensive terror, waiting for the remarkably non-power-mad Moffat-penned episode unfolding in front of me to devolve into the kind of nonsensical grandiose ridiculousness we've come to expect over the last year (the major moment of self-indulgence was that "eleven is the best" line, to which I say Steven, no-one likes a significant other who is jealous of the ex.  We got over Tennant ages ago*).  It's a remarkable relief to see the Grand High Moff exhibiting some signs of self-restraint, although also slightly worrying.  I do hope he isn't ill.  Factor in new companion Clara's posh-totty-ness and it's nothing short of a miracle.  It is not, of course, Clara's first appearance after her surprise drop-in in 'Asylum of the Daleks' as Quirky Dalek Oswin (good twist but wouldn't have wanted to sit next to her at dinner, and not really because of the dalek bit) and reincarnation as Victorian governess in the Christmas special who dies tragically of falling off a roof.  I decided to reserve judgement until such time as Clara appeared as neither a dalek nor a Victorian, and on balance I think I was right to because I found her much more palatable this lifetime round.  Stripped of eye stalks and corsets, she was even - dare I say it - likeable.  There's an obvious reason why, of course, and it's that some unsung hero at the BBC finally plucked up the courage to tell Moffat that television is traditionally a visual medium and thus the audience does not need to be reminded every goddamn minute that characters are attractive and/or special and/or attractive (again) when they can see that through the magical moving pictures on the wizardry box.  And to you, sir or madam, we are eternally grateful.

I do miss the days when companions were...y'know, ordinary, though.  I'm referring not just to Clara "Or Am I?" Oswald but also Amy "Rebooted That Universe You're Standing In" Pond and even Donna "Fused With David Tennant, Jealous Much" Noble and Rose "May Become Overly Messianic Upon Return" Tyler.  Personally, I don't need my companions to have anything 'special' about them at all, they don't need to be the most important person in the universe upon whom all our fates depend for me to want to spend cathode-ray time with them (I fully expect them to save the world at some point, but through pluck and grit and stiff upper lips, eh what).  How else are we supposed to use them as helpful self-insert fantasy sock puppets if we ourselves are not possessed of mysterious time/personality-skipping powers?  I do wonder if it's because Moffat, in this extraordinary streak of self-awareness, has realised that character-based drama is not exactly his forte; while in possession of a formidable skill set by way of taking ordinary things and making them the font of untold terrors, doing head-hurty things with time and smuggling inappropriate one-liners past the censors, I don't think he would or could create a Series 2-era Rose, for example (his attempt turned out Madame du Pompadour who, whilst possessed of many virtues, could not count 'everywoman charm' amongst them). I think it's possible that all these mystery superhero companions are supplementing a nagging insecurity that his 'normal' characters might be...well, boring.  Which is sort of sweet really.

And Clara certainly has a metric fuckton of mystery to be going on with.  I'm a little bit worried that Moffat is trying to retcon River Song given that thus far Clara is a flirty time traveller with multiple personalities whose timeline appears to be about as organised as the programmers in charge of making George Osborne look human (you're not the only one who can do social satire, Stephen "we can't always pass it off as a riot" Moffat).  I took that "time to find out who you are" line to mean that we'd be seeing a lot more of present-day Clara in the wrong order (along with all those tantalising hints about that leaf being 'Page 1', have we found Clara's equivalent of River's Big Blue Book of Spoilers?) and the Doctor is exactly the kind of 900 year old loveable eccentric who wouldn't consider delving into one's childhood as an invasion of privacy (or is he 1000 now? Would have loved to see that party).  We're already seeing the 'Asylum of the Daleks' character coming together, what with the origins of 'Oswin' and her convenient hacking skills (I love television's persistent fiction that touch-typing is somehow a convincing indication of computer genius).  I'd love the woman in the shop who gave Clara the number for the TARDIS to be River, rather than some parallel universe/future Clara herself or, indeed, her own daughter, but I don't want to sound like I'm ungrateful.

Amongst other possible trademark Moffat throwaway moments that will come back to bite, any, all or none of the following could be significant: that book by Amelia Williams - a last nod to Amy, apparently doomed to spend a lifetime in a hotel room with her husband and choosing to spend it writing slightly twee looking children's novels or something bigger?  The spoonhead under the streetlamp before Clara gets in the TARDIS (sorry, snog box) for the first time - couldn't tell who it was, but it didn't appear to be either a character we'd met before or the Doctor, so given that they apparently take their form from the subconscious of the victim, who exactly has Clara been thinking about?  One possible candidate is her dad, who we got a fleeting mention of; I took it to mean the dad of the family she was looking after, but on re-watch all the stuff the Doctor says about him being annoyed at the government in his phone message suggests otherwise - together with the reintroduction of UNIT at the end, I wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be some kind of Brigadier Mk 2.  I thought the Big Bad was going to be Cybermen, given that Neil Gaiman is signed on to do an episode about everyone's favourite tin men with the brief to "make them scary" (I'm stocking up on cushions already) but instead we got a surprise appearance by Richard E Grant's floating head.  I'm still not convinced the 'Great Intelligence' isn't somehow linked to the Cybermen anyway - stealing people's psyches via the internet seems very like them, as well as providing a useful analogy for what this show does to its more invested fans.

So all in all, I am tentatively and lip-bitingly optimistic about the season ahead.  Perhaps it bespeaks low expectations when one is congratulating a primetime BBC family show for not being overtly sexist but that is the world we live in now.  Well, there was that incident with the monk blessing himself because of "a woman" but I've been watching The Pillars of the Earth and monks getting circumspect about ladyfolk and their ways is par for the course right now.  More importantly, it achieved what hasn't been the case for a good long while now and actually felt like an episode of Doctor Who: it had silly jokes about customer support helplines and the Doctor inventing the quadrocycle and a national treasure (Celia Imrie doing more acting her final scene than Karen Gillan did in three years) and the obligatory section I like to call 'Matt Smith is an Actual Alien Actually' which is just him touching things with his definitely non-human hands and I got to say things like "he just rode a motorbike up The Shard" to relatives late to the living room and it felt sort of safe to be excited about it again.  It's the show's fiftieth anniversary this year, after all - it would be a pretty bad year for Doctor Who not to celebrate all its greatest attributes and, indeed, its greatest flaws.  Welcome back, Doctor.  For two things that technically don't exist, this blog didn't half miss you.


Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 1: Valar Dohaeris

I didn't really enjoy Season 2 of Game of Thrones, largely because I all but pulped the books and drank them as a delicious woody smoothie after Season 1 in order to get ahead of the storyline.  I failed, of course, to anticipate quite how much storyline there is in Westeros and beyond and by the time Season 2 rolled round I was staring dementedly at the screen going, "You're still alive?" and "Why are you in King's Landing when you should be crossing the spoiler in order to spoilerspoiler?"and, as always, "Who the fuck is Arthur Dayne?" I put this down to the fact that A Clash of Kings, upon which Season 2 was based, is not the best book in the series.  Hardly any of them are the best book in the series, in fact, except for A Storm of Swords upon which Seasons 3 and 4 will be based and THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST THING EVER, YOU GUYS.

After the excitement of the Battle of the Blackwater at the end of last series, I was more psyched about what this episode promised later in the series than what it delivered on the day.  It was a setting up episode, checking in with our main characters to see who was dead and/or raped and/or deformed, and who'd been really unlucky.  With an ever expanding cast ("Who the fuck is Arthur Dayne?") I doubt we'll be seeing everyone each week from here on out, possibly excepting the Tyrion-Dany-Jon Triumvirate of Angsty Awesomeness.  I thought the series opener chose well though, despite lack of Arya because there can always be more Arya, and more importantly was completely Branless and Greyjoyless because, and I cannot reiterate this enough, no-one cares about the Greyjoys.  I would also comment further about the lack of Brienne and Jaime but I genuinely cannot remember where Jaime is supposed to be in his Great Redemptive Arc at this point in the series and thus it is probable that when he does appear, he'll still be everyone's favourite incestuous hipster knight ("I was killing kings before it was cool.")

So here's Sam Tarly puffing along to confront us all with our own suspicions about how we would fare in a world where Sean Bean can die so easily**.  Here's Davos chilling on his rock before coming face to face once more with awkward ex-boyfriend Stannis and his new lady friend Melisandre (the sexual tension proves too much for Stannis to handle and he sends Davos off to the cells while he rethinks his sexuality again).  Here's Margery Tyrell doing a Princess Di that is both delightfully loathsome in its own right and causes Lena Headey's yummy queen mummy Cersei to go reaching for the mead in a way that makes me lament how utterly disappointing book!Cersei is in comparison.  Here's Sansa refusing heroically to display any character development*** while Shae stares at her with a horror usually reserved for small children crawling determinedly towards naked plug sockets.  Here's Ros stealing more screen time from characters anyone actually gives a shit about**** while Littlefinger strides smarmily around cementing his position as the Pete Campbell of Westeros (and not unlike Pete Campbell, there's a dark part of my psyche that wants him to end up running the shop, and an even darker part that wants to see him cry like a smacked child).  Here's Robb and his non-canonical bride riding around the North, being King in the North and generally saying "North" a lot before locking up his mother for telling him to tidy up his smoking ruins of Harrenhal (she also let Jaime Lannister go free which as a method for getting revenge lacks some forethought).  Here's Peter Dinklage as Tyrion managing to be at least seventy two times better than you will ever be at anything, coming together with Charles "I fucked Ripley" Dance to give dysfunctional families a bad (good?) name.  Here's Danaerys friendzoning Ser Jorah like a pro and buying up an army of baby-killing slaves after feeling bad for a good six minutes (I presume this is the Westeros equivalent of buying non-free range eggs but feeling really guilty about it).   Best of all, here's Jon Snow to look hilariously pained every time Ygritte makes an obvious pass at him and he remembers the whole no hanky-panky side of the Night's Watch deal he signed up for while I shriek Arrested Development-style "I've made a huge mistake"s at the television in his honour.

Oh, it's just all so...Game of Thrones-y.  It's almost comforting, all the nudity and killing and snow zombies and casual mutilation.  Something familiar in a crazy world.  Maybe not the most pulse-pounding episode there's ever been but they've got a lot to get through this season and I think they've hit the ground running.  If you haven't read the books, you're in for a treat.  If you have, you're possibly in for even more of a treat as we embark together on the journey of finding out if GRR Martin has left us any more tears to cry.  Still, you know it's nippy for the time of year when you're watching scenes set beyond the Wall going, "Ooh, that looks temperate." Winter is coming? You lucky bastards.

This Week's Winner: The Bells of St John pips it.  Valar Dohaeris is a solid episode full of returning favourites but is essentially a slow burner laying the groundwork for bloody, sexposition-fuelled times ahead.  Bells, while less than perfect, hints tantalisingly that Doctor Who may be on the verge of a - I can't believe I'm about to write this - regeneration.  And that's a finger-flexing-for-all-the-speculative-blog-writing-ly good prospect to risk getting excited about.

*Although then I saw this and my womb exploded.  Consider it the nation's drunken text message to the ex.
**Oh wait.
***Sansa in the books is one of those characters that divides opinion into "how is she still alive?" and "she's playing the long game".  Since the latter view requires a similar skill-set to determining that the moon landings were faked, I'm in the former camp.  I still wouldn't mind this on the show if Sansa's actress could...y'know, act, but sometimes I ask too much of television.
****I actually don't hate Ros, but this is the internet.  When you play the Game of Blogs, you rage or you squee.