(three episodes in, and I’m convinced the Lannisters are going to turn out to be massive pricks)
Having recommended Battlestar Galactica to my friend, who in turn recommended Game Of Thrones to me, I felt it only fair that I give his series a try after he heroically marathoned three seasons of Battlestar in a week, displaying more courage and discipline in a week than Gais Balthar in four years; also, my Dad had bought all four seasons on BlinkBox, so I can watch it all in gloriously non-immoral HD, which is a plus.
For reference, John Snow has joined the Night Watch, Ned is already shaping up to be the character I utter ‘I feel so sorry for you’ the most times, and Denaris has learned some Dothraki, presumably using some ancient Mongolian-influenced version of Google Translate, or at least a handbook of phrases pitched at newly-crowned queens, which is probably what our royal family uses to understand people from Aberdeen.
And you know what? I’m actually enjoying it! I’d heard about the unnecessary and demeaning nudity and, while it’s certainly present (and rendered all the more sinister by the incest and easy availability of prostitutes), but it serves a purpose; the prostitutes are pleasantly anonymous, and Denaris’ sex scenes actually advance the plot and her character, although they could have been framed in a more subtle way.
Also, having watched Battlestar, I was used to a gender and sexual divide that was significant because of its absence, so perhaps Game Of Thrones isn’t ridiculously mysogynistic, but I’m just comparing it to a series that is ridiculously the other way.
Whiny liberalism aside, the show is awesome, as would be expected of a show that’s been so highly rated; it meets the ‘James Casey Criteria Of Being Painfully Engrossing’, meaning it has led me to daydream about what I would do if I were a variety of characters in the show (a criteria only otherwise hit by Battlestar and, perplexingly, Galactik Football), and there is a healthy balance of complete arseholes and Lemony Snicket-style unfortunate events, against a few likeable characters and hopeful scenes, that means the show is just encouraging enough to watch, but doesn’t go five minutes without reminding you that everything sucks somehow.
I intend to marathon the remainder of the episodes (hence why this post is relatively dull), putting my plans to read a crap-ton this Summer (a technical term) into jeopardy; I think I can make up for it by not sleeping, or importing American Mountain Dew to keep me awake for 22 hours a day for the next three months.
I’ll see you tomorrow, if I haven’t killed myself with energy drinks, or particularly painful plot developments.