Taglines and their emotion

One of the qualities of superior drama is genuine emotion. While it's very easy to write stories that are emotional, it's not so easy to generate the kind of emotion that becomes palpable to the audience and allows them to understand why rational people do very irrational things or why they may choose to act out a decades-long effort for a goal that they know they will never reach or why they make an effort at another goal that has nothing to do with what their life to this point seems to indicate.

All of these situations were present in this episode and it was, by far, the best-acted of the season. There were no truly transformative events but there were multiple moments when that genuine emotion conveyed more than multiple deaths or breasts ever could have.

Among the best, as always, were Westeros' favorite odd couple, who aren't nearly as odd a match any longer. Where the Hound said: "Could be food.", Arya replied: "Could be soldiers." They're on the same level now, which is what made the later scene around the campfire such an interesting one. Sandor has been teaching Arya some life lessons, but he really hasn't come close to revealing himself to her. The campfire scene changed all of that and it allowed both of them to display some of the humanity buried beneath their cold exteriors, especially since it followed on the most brutally cold display by Arya yet seen. Her execution of Rorge was kinda brilliant and my second-favorite moment of the episode. Interestingly, Clegane's speech about his brother in the books was given to Sansa in Kings' Landing where Martin displayed the quite human and vulnerable side of the imposing warrior to the only human Clegane knew was guileless enough to almost trust. It's a very different dynamic here, where he's learned to trust Arya as a boon companion (and stone cold killer) but used to the same effect in presenting the greatest cynic in Westeros as a somewhat tortured soul. That contrast is later mirrored by the second-greatest cynic, Tyrion, in my favorite moment.

Likewise, the cold, calculating Petyr Baelish finally really exposes himself to Sansa and shows what has driven him for most of his life, in which he's also set this entire recent set of events in motion, always shifting pieces and playing the game to prove himself worthy of the attention of a woman who never loved him and never would have. Littlefinger is far too intelligent to think otherwise, but that's where rational thought gets clouded by emotion. Everything he's done has, in the long term, been for the attention of Catelyn Stark, who disdained him as too small and not propertied enough to be the mate of the eldest daughter of House Tully. In that way, he was the perfect match for batshit-crazy Lysa, who was also driven by being overlooked in favor of her more attractive and socially viable sister. Even now, with Catelyn dead, Littlefinger continues his pursuits in the name of her eldest daughter, bringing himself as close as possible to his lifelong goal, even if only as a proxy. One scene that neither GRRM or the show explored was seeing Baelish's reaction to the news of the Red Wedding. Despite all of the peripheral benefits of the wheels he set in motion (lord of Harrenhal, lord of the Eyrie, etc.), to get the shattering news that the person to whom he'd devoted his life was now firmly beyond his grasp must have been overwhelming. But this is Littlefinger and when you're that driven you just shift gears to the nearest available substitute, as we see here. Dropping one of those substitutes out the Moon Door is just a way to give some degree of satisfaction to both Littlefinger and the audience.

That said, I have to say again that Sophie Turner has become one of the best performers in the series, which is setting the bar very high indeed. Her ability to convey any number of emotions with very brief looks or reactions is truly impressive. The small delight of seeing snow for the first time since Winterfell and the memories it obviously created was great. The wheels turning as she utilized her new-found sense of suspicion about Baelish's motives and then still fell into his embrace was even better.

The interesting thing about displaying those intense emotions is that it has to be done well or it falls over into melodrama. The rhythm of the author will often allow the reader to make their personal judgments about this or that character. I think Littlefinger is a more sympathetic character in the show because you can see Aidan Gillen's face writhe under developments and the burning desire in his eyes to finish what he started as a child. In that same manner, the Essos Triangle strikes me as a more engrossing situation than in the books because you can actively see the torture on Jorah's face and the blatant desire on Dany's (Michael Huisman has not quite sold me as Daario yet.) Emilia Clarke has never looked more desirable than when issuing the royal command: "Take off your clothes." But just minutes later, we get to see her exercise the (other) muscle of the queen when dictating to Jorah exactly what she's going to do to those who've defied her. We've been waiting for her line "They can live in my new world or die in their old one." for seven episodes and it was delivered at the end of a philosophical sparring match that was driven by emotion and the lust for vengeance but tempered by wisdom and Jorah's desire to see the woman he loves not descend into the tyrannical nature of rulers he's seen before. She started this with the idea of justice and he's keeping her tempered to the genuine embodiment of that concept even as he writhes under the knowledge that she's giving herself to the sellsword. The "Tell  him that you changed my mind." line was a very nice touch and the panoply of emotions that fired across his face tell you all that you need to know about writing and presenting complex humans.

But the crown prince of this episode remains The Imp. There was a great outpouring of praise for Peter Dinklage during the last episode when he turned on the crowd in the throne room. While I enjoyed it, I have a hard time associating Dinklage or Tyrion with emotions that are that direct. His roles have often been tragic and complex (see The Station Agent for a wonderful example of that) and watching him hurl contempt, even at targets that deserved it, was a distinct step away from the character that had always landed far more devastating blows with remarkable subtlety. This episode gave him three shining moments to do just that.

The first was with Jaime, as the two of them spar over the wisdom of his outburst at the trial and Tyrion gets in one last stab at his incestuous but favored siblings which draws a look of malice from Nikolai Coster-Waldau that was chilling and a line that was prophetic: "Careful. I'm the last friend you've got." When they finally get to the root of the matter, whether Jaime will stand for him in the way that Tyrion had hoped he would at the Eyrie, we see the depths to which their relationship goes. Jaime knows that he's physically incapable of fighting the Mountain. He knows that standing for Tyrion, even if he somehow wins, will permanently sever the relationship with Cersei that he's endured quite a bit to try to restore. They revel in the idea of finally truly screwing up daddy's master plan if Jaime does die... but then you see that when confronted with the genuine possibility of death that their relationship has reached its limit. It's not just that Jaime would be throwing his life away for nothing and Tyrion would still die. It's that Jaime still wants to live, which is a perfectly understandable desire. So they sit and rue the circumstances.

And then we come to Bronn. Their relationship has always been one of convenience: the mercenary sellsword and the wealthy lord. But it's obviously developed well beyond that, as loathe as they both are to admit it. Just like Jaime, Bronn is taking the rational angle: killing the Mountain and getting more gold is nothing compared to becoming a landed lord, even if Tyrion could potentially make him a more landed lord at some point in the future. They both know that he's playing with dead cards in that respect and, as much as he'd like to have his savior back on his side, Tyrion can't possibly begrudge him taking the path that 1 sellsword in 10 million would ever have access to; in addition to not getting annihilated by the Mountain. Tyrion has been buying friends for a long time because he's a Lannister, but he's found that he can't depend on blood or money in his current situation, which is when the despair really sets in.

But the best moment is, of course, the final scene with Oberyn. This is where Dinklage truly excels. This is where the raw emotion of rejection and the horrible loneliness that has haunted Tyrion's entire life becomes expressed in brief moments as the tears well in his eyes. The only member of his family to ever care for him has turned him down. The only real friend he's had, even via business, has turned him down. The woman he loves has betrayed him. And along comes the enigmatic heir to House Martell, who proceeds to spell out exactly why Tyrion has faced that rejection and why it was so unfathomable to the Dornish who take a very different perspective on the weakest among them and those who don't fit the social order of the Andals.

Again, we've waited some time for the tagline: "If you came here for justice, you came to the wrong place." and Dinklage delivers it to the person who has been focused on precisely that since he first appeared in episode 1 this season. It is the converse of the lesson on justice that Jorah delivered earlier to Daenerys: killing only begets more killing. In that respect, it remains an irrational act. But Oberyn isn't acting rationally for the sake of the world to come. He's acting for the past and the only way to quiet the demons in his breast in the same way that Littlefinger pursues his goal with the object of his desire already out of reach. Nothing will bring back Elia and her children. But Oberyn will make this stand, regardless, and he will do so on behalf of a man that society has wronged since the day he was born.

Side notes:

We have our third casting of the Mountain in 4 seasons. I wondered a bit why they chose to take the camera angle that they did when Cersei met with him. That usually done to create perspective to hide something. Is it because he's not quite as tall as the others? I'm hoping the fight to come isn't mostly camera work.

The scene at the Wall was completely superfluous. Yes, Jon still bridles under the control of Alliser Thorne. Yes, we're still waiting for Mance to arrive. Yawn. At this point, either get on with it or just leave it out.

Likewise, the scene with Melisandre and Selyse accomplished exactly nothing other than getting another look at Carice van Houten's body and wondering why Selyse was so fascinated by it. It's a concept not even hinted at in the books. Selyse Florent is frigid toward Stannis because of whom she is, not because she gets her inner fire lit by the priestess.

OTOH, the Hot Pie cameo that allowed Brienne and Pod to firmly get on the track of at least one of the Stark girls was well done. Brienne's quest was always a bit of a fool's errand, since the prospect of finding either Arya or Sansa was extremely remote. Finding a source of information on that quest was more deftly accomplished than the somewhat drawn out method that occurs in the books. Plus you get a bit more interplay between Brienne and Pod as they begin to learn each others' limits.

Lines of the week:

"I thought you were a realist. I didn't realize you'd die for pride." - Not quite the angle that was taken, but emotion gets to you sometimes.

"You give me. I give you. Fair. A balance. No balance anymore." - If only it could be that simple.

"If I wanted wits, I'd marry you."
"I like you, pompous little shit that you are. I just like myself better."
"Because you're an evil bastard with no conscience and no heart? That's why I liked you in the first place." - Bronn and Tyrion, ladies and gentlemen. Truth in comedy.

We interrupt these lines for a last look at batshit-crazy Lysa

"The slaves you free... brutality is all they've ever known. If you want them to know something else, you have to show them." - Jorah's wisest line to date.

Almost every line of Oberyn and Tyrion's scene could be included here, but the best among them:

"I've got every kind of filth down here except the kind I like."
"Making honest feelings do dishonest work is one of her many gifts."
"It is rare to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters."
"Horns, a tail, the privates of both a girl and a boy..." "That would have made things so much easier."

"A lot can happen between now and never." - No greater encapsulation of the life of Petyr Baelish.

"I've only loved one woman my entire life... your sister." - Great, even if entirely predictable.

And the winner:

"What's your name?"
"Rorge."
"Thank you."
"You're learning." - Completely emotionless and excellent.

Hellblazer?

John Constantine is returning to the in-motion visual medium this fall. NBC has announced that Constantine will be one of their new shows for the season, as they try to capitalize on the recent surge in horror/sci-fi/fantasy audiences (they were always walking among us...) i09 was recently raving about this trailer:

I'm, um... mixed. While I appreciate the fact that, unlike the abhorrent Keanu Reeves film, it appears they actually, you know, read Hellblazer before making the series, it still strikes me as questionable.

First off, Constantine isn't an exorcist. While his story is steeped in Judeo-Christian mythology and lore and some of the best story arcs have revolved around his relationship with Lucifer and other entities of that ilk, presenting him in this fashion leads very quickly to the assignation of black hats and white hats. The demons are the black hats and their exorcist must, of course, be the white hat... which is exactly the wrong way to approach the character AND the wrong way to present this material, in general. Despite trying to attach themselves to the coattails of shows like Game of Thrones and True Blood, I get the feeling that NBC still hasn't quite grasped the idea of shades of gray (yes, even more than 50...) If you draw a clear line between good and evil, not only do you confine your stories to boilerplate Hollywood/Joseph Campbell stuff, you also do the Keanu Reeves thing by utterly missing the point of the character.

John Constantine is generally an asshole. He has friends who range from hating themselves for letting him into their lives to barely tolerating him. Part of the reason is his essentially anti-social attitude. The other part of the reason is that many of them know what he's done to other people who considered themselves his friends. Constantine sees the big picture. The big picture, as we know, often overlooks the little guy. Those little guys are often friends of his and if he needs to sacrifice them in order to accomplish a greater good (like freeing an entire town from the death cult that has infected it) well, that might just have to happen. And does. Repeatedly. Constantine is not without a conscience in that all of these sacrifices that he's made tend to stay with him (some of them quite literally) and so he spends a fair amount of time inside a bottle. Is NBC going to be willing to show him screwing over the people that love him, drinking himself to death, and spitting in the eye of whichever demon he's scripted to deal with this episode? Or is it just going to be a canned retelling of The Exorcist every week? I think the former is a bit much for their main channel. If it was showing up on one of their subsidiaries like FX (home base for the brilliant and way-too-risqué for NBC Archer), I'd feel a lot more secure that they weren't going to sanitize it into idiocy or, even worse, a slightly scruffier version of Highway to Heaven.

Secondly, Hellblazer was rarely confined to just Christianity. There are a lot of other religions and forms of magic in the world and Constantine had experience in most of them. That was what made him what he was; jack-of-all-trades, master of none. That's part of why other entities considered him so dangerous because they were focused on one area of the netherworld and he was comfortable everywhere. If you're going to confine him to a strictly Westernized and Americanized approach, again, you've limited the range of motion of the character before he even hits the screen or are reducing him to taking the occasional excursion to New Orleans ("The Brady Bunch goes to Hawaii!!" "The Simpsons go to Africa!!") to deal with the eerie voudoun before getting back on the anti-Satan train the following week.

Finally, Constantine is a cynic. That's what made him interesting when Alan Moore first created him. That's how he excelled when Jamie Delano and Garth Ennis took him to the greatest heights that the series hit during its run. He's bitter about society (he's the former front man for a hardcore punk band, Mucous Membrane; what else would I be listening to while writing this other than Minor Threat?); he's contemptuous of almost everyone because he can see what makes them tick; he despises his own knowledge, the ambition that led him to acquire it, and the horrible things that it has led him to experience and to do. Matt Ryan, at least in the clips I've seen, is not that guy. He's way too glib and not nearly suspicious enough of those around him to be John Constantine. Yes, he's blond, and raggedy, and English (Keanu Reeves? Seriously? You needed a casting director and found some guy gutting fish, right?) but he doesn't display that unfathomably canny attitude that makes the character what he is.

Despite my praise of Ennis, Delano, and Moore, I have to say that the best encapsulation of the character I ever read was done by Neil Gaiman in a limited series called The Books of Magic. The premise was that a young boy was the Earth's new sorcerer supreme (ahem) and he needed to be taught just what that meant and how to deal with it (a decade before Harry Potter.) In one of those issues, his guide is the inimitable John Constantine, who proceeds to give the lad the streetwise angle on how to deal with his newfound power and all of the danger that it will present. At one point, they stumble into a meeting of DC's magical community (Zatanna, the Spectre, various demons, etc.), all of whom are trying to influence the young Tim and Constantine stops them all cold. The room comes to a standstill as he tells them: "You know me. You know my reputation. Does anyone really want to start something?" Silence. When Tim asks him how to tell the good guys from the bad guys, Constantine tells him that there aren't any. They're all just people, trying to get by. I don't get that kind of real world acumen from the limited bits that I've seen of this show and it's the kind of mercenary and realistic attitude that's not generally going to appear in a show that NBC likely thinks is mostly about the horned guys on fire.

And, yes, confessed cynic here, especially on topics like this. I've seen too many bad attempts at this sort of thing to the point where I doubt that any network that is as concerned about the censors as NBC is will ever be able to get it done. At this point, it's cable or nothing and preferably pay cable... which also means it's HBO or nothing, since a Constantine written with the acumen of a Black Sails is a series waiting to be put out of its misery before the first episode.

Trials and tribulations

So this is the point where you could feel like they're stretching it a bit if you're a reader. The Red Wedding takes place roughly halfway through the book and it continues to be compelling reading the rest of the way through. The show is still compelling television, but the Red Wedding's impact is now a year old and any imaginative impetus generated is long gone. The first three or four episodes this season had their own driving forces but the last two haven't been as gripping. That happens every season (see: bridge episodes) but not normally for two in a row. The downside is that there's a bit less to be geeked about on Monday morning. The upside is that it's an indication of a big setup for moments to come, none of which I will spoil here, per usual. On the other hand, this episode presented any number of moments to think about, which is often what makes the best stories. You walk away not necessarily in awe, but in considering just what was done and by whom and how others reacted.There's a lot going on that doesn't necessarily involve blood or moments that draw it but still involve dense plotting and very real characters and emotions.

It was a treat to finally see Braavos in the opening credits, complete with clockwork Titan, in addition to getting another look at it in the episode itself. It's unfortunate that a lot of the detail about Braavos can't make it into the show yet, because it's definitely one of the more interesting locales that Martin created for the world. What's even more interesting in the scene at the Iron Bank is (just like last week) how similar it is to our own reality, where the banks own everything and king and commoner alike will sit upon the plain stone benches and become supplicants to the power of money; all in the Bank's good time, of course. Liam Cunningham has a great moment pleading Stannis' case to the money gods, but it struck me as kind of odd that in the series they show him missing the first two segments of his fingers on his left hand, whereas in the books Stannis only removed the first knuckle. Better visual impact, I suppose. And, of course, who better to have as the chief of the Iron Bank than overbearing but still refined Mycroft Holmes? Braavos also reintroduces us to Lucian Msamati, playing Salladhor Saan, and despite the skin on display, there was none of the fabled sexposition. Instead, just an old pirate joke.

Continuing the seeming directorial theme of the past couple episodes, we come to this week's Great Departure from Canon. Asha Greyjoy (yes, Asha; I refuse to continue with the "Yara" nonsense because it's silly) advances on the Dreadfort to free Reek/Theon. This, of course, never happens in the books because the Dreadfort is on the other side of the North from the Iron Islands, which means they'd have to sail all the way around the south and Dorne, past Kings' Landing and White Harbor and up the narrow river to the Dreadfort. This kind of sea traffic does happen in the world and it's really no different from running through the Strait of Magellan to do Pacific trade with Europe before the Panama Canal was built. However, my book bias says it's mildly crazy except to keep Gemma Whelan employed. Again, gotta do what ya gotta, etc. The difference between this GDC and previous ones is that this scene actually turns out to be really good. Alfie Allen does brilliant work presenting the desperate and terrified Reek and seeing Ramsay take down three or four Ironborn reavers gives some indication of just how capable he is. In the end, they wrote their way out of the GDC pretty easily and appear to be setting up another one, but there are a lot of ways to go with the events in the North during Feast and Dance, so it won't be hard to get to the same place, even if by a different path. Coming back to the bath scene and watching Ramsay indulge in his mindgames on top of mindgames allows the audience to enjoy his constantly churning mind, even if Reek still looks pretty put together after months upon months of torture.

It will be interesting to see how the series-only audience reacts to Dany's ongoing stay in Meereen. Many book readers decry it as stagnant. I wasn't as put off as most, as I could sympathize with the struggles that Martin was having in staying true to his characters and the route the story had taken to that point (boy, have I been there...) This scene was a great example of that. Runnin' things ain't easy, especially if you're trying to be conscientious about it (which, like, no one normally is.) This was a good opportunity to once again observe just how big Drogon and Co. are becoming and was also a good moment to introduce Hizdahr zo Loraq who is the first character that only appeared as of Dance with Dragons, so we're firmly stepping past the expected timeline here (again, keeping in mind for those of you who aren't readers, that Feast and Dance were intended to be two halves of one book, so perhaps not quite as far a leap forward as you'd think.)

But the best scene outside of the trial has to go to the Small Council meeting and the subsequent fencing match between Oberyn and Varys. All the little clues of rank and expectation are on display at the meeting (Tywin sending Mace, the Lord of House Tyrell, to fetch paper; Oberyn being the most interested in Varys' description of Daenerys and her doings; etc.) There are clues and hints here of future events and revelations, so it's always a good idea to pay attention to those nuances but I can't say much more. I wonder, though, why D&D and Cogman (the writers) felt like Varys wouldn't have known of Oberyn's widespread reputation as a warrior with sellsword companies in Essos, unless the Spider was just playing him to get something else...?

And, then, of course, the trial. This is a really interesting scene from a dramatic standpoint. You know where this is going. Everyone knows where this is going. The question is simply: how difficult will it be to get there? Do you have a give-and-take before one side wins on the strength of surprise evidence and/or a witness or do you have the farce where one side is basically Franz Kafka? We got the latter and it's interesting to watch because of how frustrated the audience becomes at having seen the whole picture that Tyrion has seen while the show audience gets led by the nose by those truly in control. The crowning moment is, of course, when Shae appears and lays Tyrion's heart on the table to be stabbed repeatedly. It's a somewhat different dynamic than in the books because of what happened in the second episode, but it's still just as heart-rending for him. It's not so much the lies about he and Sansa plotting. He would know that they've gotten to her and threatened her if she doesn't. It's when she gets back at him for sending her away and reveals the extent of their relationship that you realize how things have changed irrevocably for both Tyrion and Tywin.

The latter, of course, had all of his plans falling into place like clockwork up to that point. He knows his kids. He knows what they'll likely do, so this was the perfect opportunity to bring his "proper heir" back into the fold and continue the Lannister line. But he doesn't know the extent of the emotion between Shae and Tyrion or how that betrayal will make the latter react, as he still partially sees Tyrion as this beastly little man with an appetite for whores and one who will try to save his own skin if given the opportunity, which Jaime has given him. Emotion ruins even the best-laid plans but it also drives drama and so here we are. While I respect the fact that this trial was, in many ways, the Lannister family problems being laid out and finally brought to a head, I can say that I really wouldn't mind going a long time without ever hearing "The Rains of Castamere" again.

Lines of the week:



"Here our books are filled with numbers. We prefer the stories they tell. More plain. Less... open to interpretation." and "You can see why these numbers seem unlikely to add up to a happy ending." - Mycroft, givin' it to'em short and sweet. Having been in bookkeeping for a number of years, I've actually had the opportunity to have a conversation like that a time or two. Stannis' reaction is pretty true to form.

"Does this mean I'm the Master of something now? Coins...? Ships...?" and "I have seen the Unsullied. They are very impressive on the battlefield. Less so in the bedroom." - Watching the foolish Mace become petulant about being Master of Ships to his rival from the south is more telling than anything else about Lord Tyrell's character. And Oberyn is, of course, Oberyn. Always in the bedroom.

"I wish I was the monster you think I am." - Tyrion hasn't had a ton of material this season but this strikes closer to home for both him and the people around him than almost anything else.

"You've got bigger balls than he ever did. But with those big balls of yours, how fast can you run?" - Ramsay always seems to have a (ahem) grasp of things.

But the best line came from that same scene, as Alfie Allen gave us an example of pure terror and a completely broken identity:

"I don't believe her! I know who I am!" - only to be told that he had to pretend to be his old self by Ramsay a while later. Watching him be nice to Reek is far creepier than when he's savage and that's good acting and good television.

Mid-season

For the longest time, I've felt that The Wire was the best thing ever put on TV. There have been a few close seconds: seasons 3-7 of The Simpsons, Breaking Bad, and now Game of Thrones. However, since I read the books long before the series ever emerged into the force that it has now become, I've never quite been able to separate one medium from the other. The Wire is the best television show ever. Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire is still more book series to me than TV series and this is one of those episodes that kind of highlights that. So far this season, each episode has had kind of a stunning event (as D&D had implied during the pre-season interviews; "each episode has a kind of 'Red Wedding' moment") that sets the Interwebs abuzz.

This episode kind of lacked that if you happen to have read the books, since everyone who has already knows that Littlefinger was essentially the impetus behind the entire series of events that became the chaos that is his ladder by convincing batshit-crazy Lysa to murder her husband, Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and fosterer and mentor to both Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark. So the TV-only audience is one step closer to being on the same page (ahem) with the rest and perhaps finally firmly aware of just how dangerous one, small, barely-a-lordling can be if he's really ambitious. Aidan Gillen did remarkable work tonight, as well, since you could see his reluctance behind his usual steely demeanor as Lysa was throwing herself at him. And, as always, poor Sansa gets to listen to the screamer all night.

That said, for the first time I'm at a bit of a loss in terms of thinking about really powerful scenes because a lot of this was just progression or bridging. In a narrative sense, it's difficult to continually have "wow moments" (DaveBrandonCreatingTheFuture™) one after the other because your audience will become inured to them and your story will begin to suffer from requiring yet another peak, followed by the inevitable come down. In Hollywood, they tend to "solve" that problem by just blowing up more stuff. Not possible in the more limited scope of TV budgets and yet expanded scope of a serial production (if one chooses to look at the series as a sequence of 10-hour films, which seems reasonable to me.)

Even so, there were high points in this episode. They were just a bit more subtle than usual. For example, both scenes with Arya and Sandor were, as usual, excellent. Arya naming the Hound at the end of her list, even though likely expected by most watching, book-reader or not, was great. Rory McCann's continued concern over the way his pseudo-charge is developing,  even through the haze of his general disdain for all things, is great. You could see the thoughts moving through his raised head as she finished: "Did she just name me? Well, alright, then." It's an excellent student-teacher relationship that I'm sure GRRM is kicking himself for not exploring further.

The later scene with the swordplay was almost better. Much as I appreciate the essentials of Eastern sword technique (and was a practitioner of it for several years), there is something to be said for simply overpowering your more nimble opponents with solid steel and irresistible force. The fact that said opponent is a young girl without much of a chance to develop the strength to try to counter that armor (especially when worn by a nearly 7-foot man) just makes the point that much more obvious. The Hound is such a cynic that he continually tries to reinforce the point that nothing she does will make things better, whereas Arya is determined to make them so, even if she has to take a relatively morbid path to do so. In that way, they're as alike and as disparate as two characters can get.

But did D&D jump ahead of the books again? Tywin tells Cersei that the last of the Westlands' gold mines was played out three years before. That doesn't mean the Lannisters are broke. It just means that they're not as liquid as before. Thus, the greater emphasis on the Iron Bank this season, which is a much larger presence in the current thread of the TV series than it ever was in the books. Is this a way of creating a bit more dramatic tension about the crown's debt or is it a way to keep the audience intrigued since the power of the Bank is so similar to our own current times? Either is acceptable from a storytelling perspective, but I wonder if Martin did drop them a hint of the Lannisters' impending financial troubles and they decided to run with it?

Sticking with that perception of "lacking a big moment", the lone scene with Dany and Co. seemed to introduce the notorious Meereenese Knot in just a few short moments. How does one keep slaves free in a culture that is utterly reliant upon them since time out of mind? If one is going to rule, what makes Westeros that much better than Slavers' Bay and however much of Essos one can conquer (and without half the politics)? For that matter, if one is trying to be just and free people from their bondage, what entitles one to do it anywhere other than the strength of the sword? Wouldn't freeing people from bondage mean ending the serfdom of Westeros just like the slavery of Essos? Once again, the gray areas of both story and character dominate, especially in the case of Dany. At least we got the name drop of Cleon the Butcher, too.

I will say that the one scene I was genuinely disappointed in was that between Oberyn and Cersei. Here are two of the most interesting (and volatile) characters and two of the strongest actors with extended time together and they spend it largely rehashing Oberyn's slights against the Lannisters and Cersei's despair over Myrcella's absence. Those are certainly valid topics, but I was hoping for a bit more in the way of fireworks. Once again, peaks/valleys/how many can you tread, etc. The little tête-à-tête with Margaery was, in contrast, more interesting for its lack of flames. One has to assume that Margaery is wary enough to understand that a sympathetic Cersei is akin to dealing with a sleepy viper. Lena Headey is doing great things this season and that's saying quite a bit considering what she's done to date.

So we come to Craster's. My main concern with the deviation with Bran's story was that he would actually link up with Jon and the impact that would have on the two characters. In the end, they wrote their way out of that and the whole thing became a bit of an unnecessary sideshow. There were interesting points, certainly, in that the fight scene between Jon and Karl was well done (and the counterpoint to the assertion by the Hound about big swords versus faster ones) and it was definitely exciting to see Hodor get the killing blow on Locke, despite it being a case of him being warged by Bran (the gentle giant looking in confusion at the hands that just committed murder was a very nice touch.) But, in the end, it felt a bit too obvious that this was a scene inserted to try to cover for long stretches in the book where, again, Bran's story is the trek north and Jon's is getting ready for Mance and the Wildling army to appear. Again, you do what you gotta to keep the ball rolling. I just think that, as a capper to an already intermediate (as it were) episode, it kind of highlighted some of the story problems that they're already running into.

Side notes:

The extended applause for Not-Joffrey's coronation reminded me of the gushing for Obama shortly after his first election. The fact that he wasn't his predecessor was enough to win him a completely farcical Nobel Peace Prize. It was, of course, notable that Cersei was the only one not applauding the death of her firstborn.

It was interesting to see the Bloody Gate, despite not seeing it on our trip to the Vale in season 1. One assumes that was a budgetary issue. That said, in the books, Sansa and Petyr stop off at his old home before proceeding overland through the gate. Having just sailed from Kings' Landing, one would have expected them to stop at Gulltown where we could have skipped the Gate sequence entirely.

Brienne and Pod's scenes were similar. There's some development going on in that Brienne reverts to her pre-Jaime distance and aloofness while the ever-earnest Pod does his best to screw up and break her out of it. But this odd couple can't hold a candle to the previous Brienne pairing or Arya and Sandor, of course, and that made it seem a little like filling time.

To go even further with the Hound's comments about fighting styles (tank-like knights vs. faster blades), I really want to play Crusader Rex again... /wargamenerd.

Drink from the Skull will be sharing a stage with Sword through the Gullet in Gin Alley next week...

Quotes of the week:

"Who told you to take the Meereenese navy?"
"No one told me."
"Why did you do it?"
"I heard you like ships." - Forget roses. Queens want ships.

"You know what stories poor men love best? Ones about rich girls they can't have." -Petyr with the little biographical note that batshit-crazy Lysa elaborates upon later with Sansa.

"What do you think will happen if you leave?"
"They'll say I wasn't a very good squire." - Pod the pragmatist.

"Mostly I poured wine." - Pod the realist.

And the winner and still champeen:

"Your friend's dead and Meryn Trant is not, because Trant had armor. And a big fucking sword." - It's mildly terrifying seeing how mature Maisie Williams is in that scene. What's she going to look like in three years?

It's the little things

Despite the title of the episode ("Oathkeeper") and the numerous interesting events that took place, the final scene was by far the most interesting to those of us who've read the books since it is such a radical departure. There are only a couple direct interactions with the Others in the five published books and the most notable doesn't occur for some time. The fact that Craster was feeding his male children to the creatures is entirely a show creation, D&D (and Bryan Cogman, the episode's writer) apparently decided to detail what exactly the Others are doing with those children, perhaps in an effort to explain why we only ever see male White Walkers? Clearly, there was no oath involved between showrunners and GRRM to hew to material as written and it's common knowledge that they've been given an outline by Martin as to how the story is going to proceed and wrap up in case the show begins to pass his published work. That leaves a large question: Is this something that he has in mind that he hasn't revealed or is it something the show developed in order to give some identity to the Others?

I'm of two minds on that topic. One is that knowing that there's a driving force for the Walkers other than simple slaughter of living humans does give them a bit more depth. The other side of it is that giving them that depth robs them somewhat of their ominous threat. If the Others are so alien as to simply be called "the Others" (as they are in the books, if not the show), then the fear sown is enhanced by the fact that their motives are unknown and they seem to be implacable and motivated solely by killing based on some ancient war between them and the First Men with the Children of the Forest. The counter-argument is that they go beyond being simple two-dimensional boogeymen by having some detail about what and whom they are, however minor. However, given the hideously complicated political motivations and factional infighting already present in the story, I think their limited status is actually appropriate. If you can't unite against things that are only present to destroy you, you won't unite at all. Granted, the fact that they seem to be creating more of themselves which inherently still destroys the human side is reaching the same goal, so this may all just be debating storytelling angles, anyway.

Of course, much of the episode is mostly discussion about the angles that make the story and, in fact, make most of the characters actually human (to one degree or another...) from Missandei teaching Grey Worm how to read and speak Common to Sansa and Littlefinger discussing details of the regicide plot to Margaery following Olenna's advice on how to manipulate Tommen to Jaime and Brienne's departure scene where she names her new sword and titles the episode. There's a certain humanity to Cogman's writing (he was Benioff's assistant when production began and later advanced to being "lorekeeper" and regular writer of at least one episode per season) in that he clearly sympathizes with certain characters and tends to play up their more sensitive sides or simply chooses to move the plot along by their basic interactions with others. I find it a little less dramatic than D&D's stuff (which often gets worked into episodes, anyway, as the move scenes around) and it tends to have less memorable lines, but there's certainly a time for simply watching these people live their lives (or not) amidst the plots and chaos that surround them. I've noticed that it trends away from the more Machiavellian characters like Tywin and the more brutal characters like the Boltons and spends more time with people like Samwell, Bran, and Sansa.

OTOH, you can't get much more brutal than the Dragon Queen in this episode ("Crucifixion? Good. Out of the door. Line on the left. One cross each."), which kind of dovetails nicely with a point I was trying to make in my most recent non-episode post about the so-called "moral principles" of various characters. Daenerys is often seen as the only real "hero" of the story and one of the most likeable female characters, as well (although I have to say that I loved Olenna Redwyne in the books and appreciate her even more now with Diana Rigg layin' it down about both her past and the plot.) Yet in this episode, she ignores Barristan Selmy's relatively wise advice (and he should know about royal excesses, having served both Aerys Targaryan and Robert Baratheon) and exacts vengeance against Meereen's noble class. I have to say that the scene of her viewing the city from the top of the pyramid while the shrieks of the crucified echo below and the Targaryen banner flutters in the wind was (ahem) killer. But it's also a reminder of the constant level of gray. Becoming-honorable Jaime may be keeping his oath to the now-dead Catelyn Stark but he can still be a rapist. Dany may be freeing people from brutal slavery by the tens of thousands, but she can also be a ferocious killer. It's about putting your characters in positions to make decisions that have real impact and that's what makes the story what it is. Bronn cornering Jaime over his love for Tyrion was a perfect example of that theme.

Little things that carry that decision-making theme:

Is Margaery manipulating a young boy king for his own benefit or only for hers? Admittedly, I thought they might go so far as to show him getting the real benefit of being married to Margaery which most boys his age would be ecstatic about... And they worked in Ser Pounce, which is nice for completists. This becomes a question of whether Margaery is solely politically motivated and plays the gentle soul to further that agenda or whether she's actually interested in making things a bit more positive around the Iron Throne, if only for her own sake.

Is Littlefinger showing a sign of weakness by indoctrinating Sansa or setting her up to further his own ends? They're making it very clear that he looks on her as something desirable because she is Catelyn's and perhaps slightly moreso than in the books. This is the point where Sansa really began to become interesting for me, as she was mostly a foil in the earlier part of the story. In contrast, I think I've developed more interest in her from watching Sophie Turner play the role on the show and have argued at least once that she may be the strongest character in the story, if only because she is so human. It also begs the question about whether Petyr Baelish has any weakness other than Catelyn which is something that has been danced around in the books, as well.

Is Cersei treating Jaime the way she is because she's so angry at him for "taking too long" or because she's given up hope on their relationship, making her that much more bitter? Probably both and more. Of all the good exchanges in this episode, this was the best. Lena Headey continues to excel with the simplest glances and grimaces at the world around her. At this point, where does duty win out over blood? Does being the commander of the Kingsguard mean that they're only queen and commander and no longer brother and sister and, of course, lovers? Or, again, is it just a useful device for continuing her hold on power now that the far more manipulable Tommen is on the throne. Remember, the only thing Cersei truly loves are her children...

And, finally, the little differences. The elimination of the wolves from the storyline, barring Summer, is getting greater as time goes by. Why keep Ghost imprisoned at Craster's when he has a greater connection with Jon than most of the other wolves had with their masters? If the story was already going to have Jon arrive there as a tactical decision, did they think that having Ghost there was the only way to have Bran and Co. stop to check it out? Wouldn't them seeing Night's Watch members have been sufficient? Of course, that also begs the question as to why they would bring Bran and Co. to Craster's in the first place. Admittedly, there are long stretches where Bran's story is: "We're out in the wilderness. Moving north." but this just seems like an odd juxtaposition of plot lines in which Sam bemoans the fact that he couldn't get Bran to turn around and then Jon shows up to rescue him. I think maintaining the separation of the Stark children is part-and-parcel of the overall tragedy and would hate to see that changed if they run into each other. Furthermore, on that final scene with the Walkers, I hate to think that we're again missing Gemma Jackson, since the Stonehenge-like site for the transformation of the baby was a little chintzy. I was really reminded of, um, classics like Conan the Destroyer, from the movie hell that was the 80s.

Lines of the week:

"Unsullied. Always Unsullied. Before Unsullied, nothing." - The dedication of the eunuch.


"Her son?" "Don't." and "The Kingslayer Brothers. You like it? I like it." and "Sansa's not a killer. Not yet, anyway." - As usual, the Lannister brothers' scenes are close to priceless. I think Tyrion was thinking of Arya with that last line, though.

"A man with no motive is a man no one suspects." and "I don't want friends like me." - No one wants friends like Littlefinger.

"Figured I wouldn't have to suck up to any highborn cunts here... Guess I was wrong." - One wonders if Locke was telling a bit of the truth here about his own fealty to the Dreadfort?

"I'll find her. For Lady Catelyn. And for you." - Continuing this season's trend, a line that isn't witty or memorable except for the sincerity with which it's delivered and the unspoken communication that accompanies it. Brienne's attachment to Jaime in the show is far more prominent than in the books and that's a change that I really think is for the better.

And the winner:

"You want to fight pretty or you want to win?" - This should be the tagline of the show. When Bronn got him with the hand, all I could think about was Nelson Muntz ("Stop hitting yourself!")

Oh, and Drink from the Skull is the new band name.

Fantastic misogyny?

 
As expected, last week's Cersei and Jaime scene generated quite a bit of discussion around the Interwebs, most of it fueled by some degree of outrage and/or disgust... which one would hope for in a scene that was pretty clearly rape. However, I think some people are losing sight of a) what the story is; b) whom the characters involved are; and, c) what the scene was obviously trying to do. Sarah Kolb's piece at medium.com is an example of that.

Now, like usual, this is treading dangerous ground because here I am, a man, talking about a topic that's, uh, not from my perspective. Although the sexual assault of men does occur in our society, there's no question that it's far more prevalent against women. Therefore, it's very easy to slide back into the commonly patriarchal view of such activity, which often leads to blaming the victim for displays of initial desire ("She wanted it!") or a failure to act sternly enough ("I would have stopped if she really didn't want it!") Even more importantly here, this is a work of fiction, so there's no interview to be done afterward to get the reaction from the characters or determine whose intent was whose, etc. However, this being fiction, one would like to assume that we can go ahead and analyze this from a relatively secure foundation of complete and total speculation and assumption, which is what we'll try here.

First off you can't (ahem) lionize Cersei as one of Martin's most interesting characters (which she is) and then complain about how the show has trivialized her into a victim because the show, if anything, has made her more interesting. Cersei doesn't become a POV (point-of-view) character until well after this event took place in the books (she begins in Feast for Crows, not Storm of Swords as Kolb stated) so we're not privy to her thoughts when this happens, just as we're not privy to said thoughts from either the character or Lena Headey on the HBO series. That said, you get a different level of detail from watching a performance than you do from reading a book. Cersei is little more than vengeful manipulator through the first few thousand pages of the books. Only later do we learn her vulnerabilities. We've already seen those multiple times from Headey in the show's four seasons. We can already sympathize with and even love her, in Kolb's words. She's already complex and she's still a victim, simply on the basis of her sex. But suggesting that the latter condition is somehow indicative of an overall attitude of the show and its creators is a bit too far of a leap, IMO.

Secondly, saying that the scene in the books is "completely consensual" is pretty poor memory on Kolb's part. The circumstances are markedly different (it's the first time Jaime has seen her in months, rather than being home for weeks; Joffrey has been dead for some time; etc.), but she says "No." quite a bit during that scene, as well, before giving in. It's easy to read her "No" in the books into the idea that she's just worried about someone coming in and seeing them and the uproar that would result. But how do we know that? In the same way that we shouldn't make a determination about anyone's intent leading up to a rape, we shouldn't here, right? "No means no", right? Is it safe to say that she "wanted it" because at some point she seems to have mentally said "I don't care if someone comes in. Do me, Jaime!"? Likewise, in the same way that it's possible to view that scene as "without question consensual", it's also possible to note that Graves' scene also shows Cersei giving in, returning Jaime's kisses, and then clutching the altar dressing in a pretty clear display of passion. At what point do we determine that her desire does or does not make it rape?

In the end, was it rape? Yeah, I think so. That's what I thought from the moment it started to the moment we transitioned to somewhere else, even after she began returning Jaime's passion. That's what it was and I was certainly a bit put off by it, too, not just because of what was happening but also because it was a radical departure from the route that Jaime's character has taken in the show and the books. However, that's what happens in good dramatic works and it usually turns into something more interesting than otherwise. Furthermore, to extrapolate from that shock into discarding the entire show as an exercise in misogyny is a good way to get me to discard said opinion as an exercise in hyperbole. For that matter, how exactly are rape scenes to be shown in fiction if not as a moment of shock and, presumably, horror? How exactly should they be shown or told "correctly"? What better reaction for the audience to have than the one that the vast majority had precisely to this one?

Women are property in Westeros, just as they were in many societies in earlier times (and still are in many today, unfortunately.) That's precisely the focus of Cersei's character in that she has been one of the most powerful people in the Seven Kingdoms for quite some time and, in an instant, she's reduced to being a bargaining chip again. Consistency in storytelling is actually a strong point, so deviating from what has been firmly established is as much a fool's errand as rewriting history because it's too dark for today's tender sensibilities and more enlightened viewpoints. To be honest, Kolb's is the only opinion I've seen so far that's even speculated on the idea that part of the audience would react in a "bitch got what she deserved" manner. On the contrary, the reaction has been one of almost universal shock and confusion... which is exactly the reaction you would expect to get for a rape scene! Art works. Wonders never cease. Because, yeah, it is a lot like real life. Maybe that's the point?

Later, Kolb's argument turns to the fact that what seems to be really eating at her is that Jaime's upward return from the vile person that he was before has now been put on hold. In other words, he's still a self-centered guy who feels entitled to take what he wants, even from the person he loves most in the world. She's upset that the show "butchered the moral principles of one of [her] favorite male characters." Exactly how many "moral principles" does a child-killer and nobleman who regards most commoners as footstools to be used mounting his horse actually have? While it's a surprise to everyone (at least in some way because it is such a deviation from his path in the books), it's also no reason to dismiss the show and, to some extent, Martin's work as misogynistic (even aside from the seeming hypocrisy.)

That's almost the funny part, because there was an opinion for quite some time after 2000 and prior to the publication of Feast for Crows that A Song of Ice and Fire was a work of misogyny, primarily because even though Martin had multiple strong and interesting female characters, the vast majority of them were regarded as either despicable, weak to the point of contempt, or harridans (Cersei, Sansa, and Catelyn, respectively.) The only real exception was Daenerys, who is still widely regarded as the story's only genuinely heroic figure, and who is still one of those whom modern society would term "morally questionable" because of the casual way in which she's willing to execute thousands of Astapori, Yunkaii, and Meereenese. So, whose high horse is really being ridden here?

The scene wasn't funny. It wasn't titillating. It didn't even show any of the famed nudity that people seem to think is so overdone (oh, but not the brutal violence... no, there can never be enough of that for American audiences because that's OK for the children...) It was exactly what it was supposed to be: dark, and not just because the lighting was low. While many people, like Kolb, have had a visceral reaction to it, I think that was honestly intentional. Whether it was a good idea or not remains to be seen. I think it works within the scope of what the show has already portrayed and will continue to do.

(And, incidentally, Asha Greyjoy is Yara Greyjoy in the show because they thought people would be dumb enough to confuse 'Asha' and 'Osha', the Wildling. Asha, again, doesn't really come into her own until A Feast for Crows begins, so while I'd like to see more of her, that story is still being played out. Again, not because the producers hate women.)

Short post-mortem

In years past, I've always made some effort to fit in as many of the year's Oscar-mentioned films because I liked to have experienced what people were lauding as worthy of mention. Of course, there are always films (like Blue is the Warmest Color) that don't end up getting attention from the Academy that I think are simply better than many things that do, but most of what ends up on the Best Picture list or are the vehicles for the 'Best X' category tend to have some merit and end up being worth watching. I caught one before the awards were given out and two in the last couple days.

The first was Dallas Buyers' Club. While I've read a fair amount of criticism about the distortions to the story of Ron Woodroof (who is portrayed, brilliantly, by Matthew McConaughey), the fact remains that the essential story, that of a group of people fighting to extend their lives in the face of a modern plague, is displayed wonderfully in this film. I thought the structure was a bit off, in that we never really see the emotional impact of the changes on Woodroof because he's so driven to keep fighting in every arena that civil society allows. He's a fighter and he remains one, right to the end, and there's never really a different side. That said, it was such a departure from the usual fluff that McConaughey is attached to that I think I was won over by his performance in the same way that I was convinced ever after that Brad Pitt could act after seeing 12 Monkeys (and I was right!/breaks arm patting back.) Of course, soon after I'd seen DBC, True Detective began and I may never have a bad word to say about McConaughey again...

And you can't really say anything about the film without mentioning Jared Leto, who stole every scene that he was in. Again, the standard story about someone transitioning from bigot to at least grudgingly respectful is all well and good. But in the case of both actors, I was far more interested in the zeal that they obviously carried for their roles and how willing they were to embody them (quite literally, given that they both had to starve themselves to portray very sick individuals.) In that respect, just watching the performance was more important than getting something thrilling in the form of a plot.

The same was essentially true of 12 Years a Slave. I enjoyed it for what it was, even though it veered away from drama and closer to documentary at some points. I thought the performances, top to bottom, were excellent with the lone exception of the aforementioned Pitt, whose role was so artificial that it fairly screamed "deus ex machina" and he played it that way. That may underscore my real problem with the film in that, while it certainly may be true that there was a Canadian contractor who is the person that eventually opens the door to Solomon Northrup's freedom (I have not read the original text), the development of that relationship isn't given the space that it needs to make Pitt's role feel like anything other than a device. Indeed, the film's title presents an agonizing length of time for the specific kind of injustice that Northrup endured (saying nothing about the broad-based injustice of slavery in the first place), but the film really fails to portray that time.

There are a couple instances where it seemed like director Steve McQueen (not that Steve McQueen) attempted to show the passage of time by cutting away to moments of scenery that I found quite entrancing visually and useful in and of themselves to give the audience time to consider Solomon's circumstances or even to contrast his situation in a brick-walled prison in slave country Virginia as the Capitol sits serenely on the other side of the river in nominally free Maryland. That's moody atmospheric stuff and if McQueen was using it to build that mood and show the passage of time, that's great. He just didn't do it often enough. One of the essential keys of the story is the dolorous, repetitive labor that was slavery (and especially cotton harvesting) and how this man was separated from his family with no recourse for Twelve. Long. Years.... except that it never felt like that. Solomon's circumstances changed so rapidly that I never got the sense that he was stuck in this situation for anything longer than a few months, so that by the time the film ended I watched the credits roll thinking that I had seen a good film, but not one for the ages.

All of that said, just like DBC, the performances were worthy of watching regardless of the mild flaws of the story. Chiwetel Ejiofor's anguish in the final scene where he's reunited with his family (spoiler!), as a man who has clearly lived his entire life under tight self-control; indeed, a man who has survived as a slave for a dozen years because of that self-control, is now faced with a situation where the emotion is simply resonating off of him but he is still unable to break down and release it. That was magnificent.

And then there's some crazy people in backwoods (backplains?) Oklahoma. While August: Osage County seemed to get the fewest raves of the three, I actually thought it was the best film. Once again, performances carried the day. I can't say enough about the cast and I guess I don't need to, as there was certainly more than enough talent packed in there, but aside from the excellent and glowingly-reviewed and nominated turns by Meryl Streep and Julia Roberts, I found myself equally as intrigued by Juliette Lewis and Julianne Nicholson. Juliette, as Karen, wasn't stepping too far outside her sphere by playing the ditzy sister trying to score big with a playboy husband, but she had the best line of the film at one point, cutting straight to the heart of the story as she rants at Barbara (Roberts):

Because I doubt that Jean’s blameless in all of this. I’m not saying that I blame her. Just because I said that she’s not blameless. I’m not saying she’s to blame. It’s just that she might share in the responsibility. It’s not cut and dried. It lives where everything lives. Somewhere in the middle. Where the rest of us live! Everyone but you!...

And I may have to do some things I’m not proud of again because life just puts you in a corner that way. And then, come January, we’ll be in Belize. Doesn’t that sound nice?

That final line made me crack up because you can't try harder to escape from your situation without telling everyone that that's exactly what you're doing. Likewise, Ivy (Nicholson) has the most emotional moments of the story that have the most to do with a positive outlook. Surrounded by the chaos, outrage, and despair, she's actually trying to move forward and responds with as much restraint as she can muster to try to be the stalwart of the three daughters that she's always been.

What should be evident from those two is that Osage County had the best story. In many ways, it's the smallest and most personal, taking place in one house over a few days, rather than spanning nations and years, but those are often the ones that live with you the longest. I know that I'll remember moments from Osage County longer than any from the other two films because it presented a situation that I could relate to while still being interesting enough to keep me watching simply because it was so different from my own. These were real people and we could have been voyeurs watching them go about their lives. The film is based on a play of the same name and, as so often happens, those films present the most memorable characters that have already been put through their paces to reach an audience. Add a camera and some remarkable talent and you're going to make memories for a much wider swathe of people.

There's one more film that I considered seeing but eventually didn't and which also received a shower of accolades in award season and that's The Wolf of Wall Street. I'm a fan of both DiCaprio and Scorcese, but the reason I didn't see it is still with me: I'm not particularly interested in further lionizing a pattern of behavior that should have landed many, many people in jail and which resulted in almost no one seeing the inside of a cell. Make me a film about Jamie Dimon on trial for his life and I'll be camped outside the theater.