Boldness is a recurring theme in the works of fantasy writer George R.R. Martin, the author of the novel on which the new drama 'Game of Thrones' (9PM ET Sunday, HBO) is based. Time and again in his epic yet emotionally intimate tale of intrigue and war, individuals facing almost hopeless odds stand up for their beliefs and, despite their flaws and fears, show admirable courage.
As a storyteller, Martin is similarly resolute: If a setback or a death makes sense within the context of his tale, he doesn't hesitate to unleash it and, true to his focus on the story's wonderfully complicated characters, he also depicts the full range of implications that follow every act of violence (and every altruistic impulse).
As a television series, 'Game of Thrones' is frequently handsome, even gorgeous at times. This tale of knights, kings and spectral threats is, in general, well acted by an able cast, and once the medieval-flavored story of courtly maneuvering and moral ambiguity gets into gear midway through the season, much of what works about the novels begins to work in the show.
The show is faithful to the events of the novel, but, especially in the early going, it's only fitfully faithful to the novel's emotional depth and thematic complexity.
While a desire to diligently depict the incidents in Martin's 807-page book (the first in his seven-novel 'Song of Ice and Fire' series) is admirable and even understandable, 'Game of Thrones' needed to be shaped more aggressively to fit the needs of a television drama. Each hour needed to have its own beginning, middle and end; more elements should have been rearranged, given additional context, amplified or eliminated.
For the series to inspire loyalty from both Martin fans and from newcomers alike, the characters need to come alive much earlier and much more consistently than they do in the first few episodes of the show. Many articles have been written about fans' loyalty to Martin's books, and that's an entirely real phenomenon and certainly the epic story itself is part of the reason for that devotion. But in my view, 'Song of Ice and Fire' fans are so loyal because they love the people in this world ferociously. The excellent cast does what it can with the scenes they're given, but those scenes are sometimes stilted and, at times, strand characters in choppy stories that don't feel part of a cohesive whole.
In the main, the show tends to follow Martin's narrative closely, which results in a lot of jumping around to different locations and story lines. Martin's first book is told from the perspectives of eight different characters, and the writer gives readers the kind of contextual information and personal and political histories that help them see how each new section of the tapestry fits into the whole.
Here, the constant shifting of venues and characters regularly impedes the narrative drive, resulting in awkward pacing, and viewers don't always get the context they need in order to invest in what's happening. When, later in the season, 'Game of Thrones' spends the majority of an episode at one or two locations and allows viewers to get to know certain individuals and places more thoroughly, it's a more satisfying experience.
Some aspects of the show work well, others are less graceful. The classic simplicity of the coming-of-age tale told at the Wall -- a towering mass of ice meant to protect the kingdom of Westeros from uncivilized "wildlings" and worse things -- is wonderful to see. It's the strongest part of the drama. Events at King's Landing, the seat of the restive King Robert Baratheon (Mark Addy) take much longer to become interesting, given that the setup for that part of the tale is time-consuming and often tedious.
HBO sent critics six episodes of the 10-episode season, and while the first episode is a solid and visually rich scene-setter for the tale to come, there's a lot of dry, sometimes clunky exposition to get through before the story really gets going in the fifth episode, which is far and away the best hour of 'Game of Thrones' I've seen. It's not that there aren't good scenes before the fifth episode, but it takes that long for the narrative to have consistent forward momentum and for the story as a whole to begin to cohere.
Several scenes in that fifth episode are exceptionally well written and acted, but one in particular captures the essence of what inspires such loyalty to Martin's novels. In the scene, two weary characters discuss how their expedient personal choices years ago rippled outward and ultimately had a disastrous effect not only on their lives but on the fate of a troubled kingdom. The scene is funny, heartbreaking and full of the kind of rueful honesty and regret that accompany middle age.
That scene is not in the book, but it perfectly captures many of the themes of Martin's novels, which aren't just about battles among kings and princes but about how personal choices sometimes intersect with harsh political realities in unexpected ways. Will 'Game of Thrones' do for fantasy what 'Deadwood' did for Westerns or 'The Sopranos' did for gangster stories? No, not at this point, but thoughtful scenes like that demonstrate the kind of potential residing at the heart of this complex tale about the cost and necessity of hope.
It's not that the creators of the show, executive producers David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, have to depart from Martin's text to create great drama -- far from it. When good, meaty scenes from the book are adapted gracefully, they can be quite satisfying indeed. For instance, scenes featuring Arya Stark, the feisty daughter of nobleman Eddard Stark, are generally wonderful. Maisie Williams, who plays young Arya, is a terrific find.
But scenes from the book are not always translated to the screen smoothly, and, in any event, to fit Martin's dense tale into 10 hours of television, the show needs more of what I came to call "shorthand" scenes: Moments that capture the themes of the story, deepen the portraits on the people in the tale and shed light on their desires while subtly introducing new information. Several scenes like that were invented for the TV show, and they're generally inspired and interesting.
But too often, especially in the early going, characters stand around talking about what has happened in the past, what might be happening in the present and what could happen in the future. It's admirable that 'Game of Thrones' wants to make sure that no viewer is left behind -- the world of Westeros is full of complicated histories and alliances -- but the makers of this drama needed to choose between being faithful to the incidents of the books and depicting complicated people in dramatically compelling situations. The latter priority gets short shrift more than I'd like, though in the fifth and sixth episodes, the story begins to deepen in promising ways.
At that point, Eddard Stark (Sean Bean), an old friend of King Robert Baratheon (Mark Addy), becomes hopelessly enmeshed in various maneuverings among the aristocracy, and Stark's wife, Catelyn (Michelle Fairley), has her hands full dealing with various crises resulting from incidents at their castle, Winterfell. Both Starks have to contend with members of the rich, powerful Lannister family, which includes the king's wife, Cersei (Lena Headey), and her siblings Jaime (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) and Tyrion (Peter Dinklage).
When they're given scenes that are not exposition dressed up as dialogue -- and even when they are -- these actors are very good, as are Emilia Clarke, Harry Lloyd and Jason Momoa, who play a far-off princess, her ambitious brother and a ruthless warrior. The actors playing young characters are also excellent; Williams, Isaac Hempstead-Wright as her brother Bran and Kit Harington as Jon Snow, Stark's bastard son, are particularly impressive.
Snow, like his father, is a man of few words and much heart; Harington effortlessly makes you understand how this young man's ambiguous status as the not-quite-noble offspring of a nobleman has had a profound effect on his life. And it's not possible to overstate Bean's importance to this show -- Ned Stark's goodness, rough intelligence and quiet strength anchor the proceedings in countless necessary ways.
The series contains the kind of gorgeous vistas and spine-chilling moments you'd expect from a fantasy epic, but there are also a few aesthetic choices that didn't work for me (I'll write about various likes and dislikes in more depth in my weekly reviews). And there's one major disappointment among the cast. Peter Dinklage is an undoubtedly talented actor, but the haughty English accent he gives Tyrion is so overdone and the character's enunciation is so over-the-top that it is, at times, distracting.
At this point, if you've gotten this far, you're probably wondering whether you should watch this show or not. Yes, you should watch it. You'll know within the first few episodes whether it's for you, and if you stick with the drama through the middle of the season, you may find the tale growing on you.
At this stage, 'Game of Thrones' is not everything it could be, and if there are future seasons, the producers will have to be much more bold if they don't want their version of Martin's ever-expanding tale to become unwieldy, but there are several things to recommend HBO's rendition of the story, most notably the cast and many of the visuals. If nothing else, it's going to look great in HDTV.
For the Metacritic devotees among you, here's how I'd rate the first six episodes (each score is out of 100): episode 1: 80; episode 2: 50 (not the show's finest hour by a long shot); episode 3: 60 (mainly due to the final scene); episode 4: 70 (mainly due to the terrific Wall scenes); episode 5: 90 (exceptional work by the cast, excellent writing); episode 6: 70.
Note: No spoilers in comments. Please. Most people who'll be checking out the show have never read the books, so please don't refer to plot information that could impede their enjoyment of the show.
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