Last time across the bridge

Game of Thrones has always had a pattern to its seasons. At least once or twice, they'd run what I've always referred to as "bridge" episodes. They were basically lots of people talking about events that had just happened as a way to get to the next series of things that would happen. When you have this many characters and storylines to keep track of, they kind of become a necessity to make the characters into real people. These events impact them- mentally, emotionally, and often physically -and you have to take time to depict that if you're going to properly tell their stories. In the end, GoT remains the story of these characters, as much as it is the story of the Song of Ice (Night's King) and Fire (Dragons.) I once remarked that GoT was emblematic of a plot-driven story, in that many of the major events taking place would happen with or without Tyrion or Sansa or Davos Seaworth. But the story is about how those major events impact those people, as much as it is about the transformation of the world (human and beyond.) And, given the presence of people like Dany and Cersei, it's a character-driven story, as well. If you have a character-driven story, then you need to show those characters as human. Otherwise, you end up with a repeating serial like a comic book that never comes to an end because the characters are never truly changed (and don't age, unlike some people in this story...)

This was one of those bridge episodes. Last week was the collection of reunions among most of the key figures and introductions between a few more. This week, in the face of their impending doom, we spent time both reminiscing and demonstrating how much the world had changed through the eyes of the major figures of that world. As much as a certain segment of the audience wants something "to happen" in each episode, what they may not realize is that things are happening. The exchanges between these characters are moving their stories and, thus, the story forward. No one is getting killed, but many of these scenes are payoffs for things begun literally years ago or often hinted at for so long that leaving them hanging might be doing both character and audience a disservice. GoT has avoided fan satisfaction in the name of good storytelling for a long time, but there are limits to all things. Sometimes the two happen to intersect.

That was no more evident than in the scene between Arya and Gendry where she decides she's going to experience sex for the first and maybe last time. Their attraction to each other has been evident from almost the moment they met. Bringing that thread to an end is something both appropriate from the relationship formed between those two characters and from the macro perspective: they're all about to die, so they might as well celebrate life before it happens. Even believers in the god of Death gotta get laid. The fact that said scene was a bit of fan service to the "shipper" types is just a (ahem) happy coincidence. Aside from that, the meta implication that the audience has seen both character and actress grow from girl to woman over the years that the show has been running and were witness to "little Arya's (Maisie's)" first sex scene is just another layer to that event. If it made you uncomfortable, then you're still looking at Arya (Maisie) as she was then and not what she is now. But that's exactly what these bridge episodes are supposed to help you with: seeing how these characters are changed by and are changing in the world around them. To the writers' credit, they kept the scene firmly within current Arya's wheelhouse. There was no outpouring of emotion or new realization on her part about the wonders of sex. It was functional, detached, purposeful; just like the Faceless Men, which was always going to be the central question around Arya when the Starks returned to Winterfell: How does the inhuman assassin function around other humans?

With all of that in mind, it was mildly annoying to note how maudlin some of these scenes were, with Tyrion and Jaime doing the "what if we'd done things differently?" routine and Jon even directly telling his former Black Watch comrades to "think back to where we started." We didn't really need to be reminded of that. We've all been remembering how things started in the books for 23 years and in the show for 8. We get it. And, keeping in theme, the episode brings back the likely prophetic song device, where the lyrics of an old folk song (sung by Pod!) are laying out the path that the story is likely to take, when so many of them will die on the "damp, cold stones" of Winterfell. But being maudlin is part of anticipating death with (relatively) good humor, so there's that, and reaffirming the fondness between some of the characters that indicates why they're willing to fight and die for each other is another element that can't be ignored if, once again, you're telling stories about humans and not cardboard cutouts.

Technical stuff:

Hats off to Gwendolyn Christie for making Brienne not only a compelling character but one of the most principled and honorable in a den of liars and politics. There's something interesting about being surrounded by people who are telling lies for their own benefit or for what they think is someone else's benefit and often being the only one willing to stand up and say it plain. She was one half of what I still think is the best character scene in the whole series (her and Jaime in the hot tub in season 4) and she used the revelation from that scene to empower her defense of Jaime in this episode. One might have also suggested that Jaime slaying someone who was burning people alive for no reason is right in line with Dany's professed values, so her standing up to defend her dead father is more than a little like Sam's rush of emotion about losing his own tyrannical progenitor last week. I get the whole family loyalty thing but, seriously, come on. (Yes, I know. Humans. They're weak.)

Similarly, Sophie Turner is killing it in her brief moments on screen. This is Sansa as she is now: politically aware, suspicious, determined to not let her family be taken advantage of again ("What about the North?") I admit to being kind of surprised at the emotional reunion with Theon, before I remembered that he's the one who engineered her escape from Ramsay Bolton. I've become so accustomed to the recriminatory attitudes amidst reunions with people who've done bad things in the past (like Jaime) that it was almost unusual to see Theon, object of scorn, become Theon, long lost heartfelt companion. I have continued similar thoughts about Isaac Hampstead-Wright. He's not getting a ton of lines, but most of them ("The things we do for love.") carry weight and are wonderfully delivered.

It was good to see that the wolf unit continuing to be credited actually had some effect on the screen, as Ghost made a brief cameo. Here's hoping he's involved in more than just standing in the background when the fisticuffs start up. There was a point in the books when the connection between the wolves and the Stark children was actually important. With that in mind, it occurred to me tonight with the second appearance of the new astrolabe (with images of what's happened in the show, rather than in the history that led up to it) just how long it's been since the stag's head on the title medallion has had any impact whatsoever. The dragon, lion, and wolf have remained the movers and shakers behind and within the story, but House Baratheon has been a non-entity for several seasons now. One would think they'd have been willing to make an adjustment there.

On a more negative front, the scene with Davos and Gilly guiding the refugees seemed almost completely superfluous and ham-handed. Perhaps it was a way to get the two of them more screen time (for Hannah Murray, her first of the season) or to emphasize how the smallfolk are put upon once again by the wars happening over their heads, since the rest of the episode was taken up by the nobles talking about how they're going to conduct said war. But it still felt extremely tacked on to a story that was otherwise about the emotional impacts of the last few years. The young girl's initial insistence on being involved also detracted from the later confrontation between the Mormonts, as Lady Lyanna insisted that she be present in the same way. We're already getting a Kit Harrington height joke every episode. We probably don't need a re-emphasis of the Lady Mormont meme, as well. (I continue to enjoy every moment of Bella Ramsey's time on screen, even if she is basically comic relief.)

Two non-show things: I realized later that I'd been misspelling Tyrion's name as "Tirion." That's because Blizzard's Warcraft games have a character named "Tirion Fordring" and I'd been playing Hearthstone recently, so that spelling was stuck in my brain.

For the second week in a row, HBO previewed something that has me at least as excited as I am about the last season of GoT, if not more. Last week, it was the Chernobyl miniseries, which feeds my Cold War history urge (There are several excellent books about the disaster which are quite engrossing.)  This week it was the long awaited Deadwood movie. Only took 13 years! That's, um, only a little longer than the gap may be between A Dance with Dragons and The Winds of Winter...

Lines of the week:

"You want to know what they're like? Death. That's what they're like." Said to the Faceless Man. Gendry really doesn't know what he's getting into.

"How do you know there is an 'afterwards'?"
Bran with the killer lines. If he sees everything, maybe he's already seen enough to know the end result isn't what everyone wants. Watching everyone die at the hands of the Night's King only for the final credits to roll would be far more catastrophic than Tony Soprano sitting in a diner. But it would almost be funny.

"She's always been good at using the truth to tell lies."
There is no more accurate summation of Cersei ever spoken. Fitting that it's her two brothers ruminating on it.

"She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was. And you loved her, anyway."
And, again, a hard truth that Jaime is fully aware of.

"We have never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me!"
Speaking of self-deprecation, Brienne remains a font of honesty. I thought the knighting scene was very well done, but I think the closest Jaime came to an actual acknowledgment of affection was offering to serve under her command.

"He wants to erase this world and I am its memory."
Again, Bran with the lines that speak not only the obvious truth, but the essential truth of the story. The Others were designed to exterminate the First Men. All of these people are descendants in some way of the First Men (humans.) Therefore, wiping out their history fulfills the original intent of the Children of the Forest. But it's also a larger statement on a society beholden to family histories and tradition. If The Others wipe out all of that, it's a way to start over.

"I'm not the Red Woman. Take your own bloody pants off."
Again, this isn't really about an emotional attachment or the excitement of having sex for the first time. It's functional. She's willing to engage in the enticement of undressing each other only so far. Then, it's down to business and everyone better be ready.

"I'm not a king, but if I were, I'd knight you ten times over."
Uncomfortable innuendo, they name is Tormund Giantsbane (and his giant breast milk.)

But the winner, as always, was the Hound. The scene with him and Arya, the boon companions of death, sitting bored against the parapets, waiting for the killing (their life's purpose) to start, produced a number of gems:

"Was he on your list?"
Here's the practical Hound: If Beric was on her list, then I can get her to get rid of this annoying guy.

"Thoros isn't here anymore, so I hope you're not about to give a sermon. Cuz if you are, he's gonna wonder why he brought you back 19 times only for you to die when I chuck you over this fucking wall."
Or I can just do it myself. Like always. Especially since I don't want to spend my last night alive with a devotee of a fire god.

"I might as well be at a bloody wedding."
There's a couple layers of in-joke, having missed the Red Wedding and citing the Hound's general distaste for interacting with humans. It's also kind of funny of him to point out the segment of the audience who are totally missing the relevance of episodes like this one.

"Last man here, burn the rest of us."
But the last word goes to Dolorous Edd, for whom the atmosphere of this episode is especially fitting.