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4.8 “The Mountain and the Viper”
Written by David Benioff & D.B. Weiss
Directed by Alex Graves
There’s a lot of really weird stuff going on in this
episode, so let’s get right to it.
We open on Mole’s Town, and it took me a couple of minutes
to figure out that’s where we were, because the whole thing is above ground. It
looks like any other dirty little village that passes for not-King’s-Landing in
this version of Westeros—mud streets, rotting thatch, and it’s so danged dark
it’s hard to see anything. They had a really great opportunity to do something
different here, given that in the books there’s maybe one or two structures
above ground and the entire rest of the town is subterranean to protect from
the cold. That’s why it’s called Mole’s Town. But I guess since it’s not
someplace cool, important, or exotic like King’s Landing or Meereen, it didn’t
deserve any special architecture.
One of the prostitutes demonstrates the difference between
city whores and country whores by belching a tune and having the men guess what
it is. Then she heads into a back room and yells at Gilly, who’s doing the
laundry, about baby Sam crying all night and waking her up, then we get a bit
of racism before Gilly recognizes a hooting noise and realized they’re about to
get raided. Everybody dies except Gilly and baby Sam because Ygritte lets them
live and gives Gilly the stay-still-and-be-quiet signal.
Of course, the Night’s Watch finds out about this, and of
course Sam thinks Gilly’s dead, and he takes the opportunity to whine about how
badly he messed up sending her away and how she’s probably dead and oh woe is
me. Pyp tries to convince him that Gilly’s resilient and even Edd tells him
that Gilly survived way worse than a raid on Mole’s Town. Jon turns the discussion to defending Castle
Black, since obviously they’re next, and Edd (back to his usual Dolorous self)
says whoever’s the last to die needs to burn everyone else’s bodies. That’s the
setup for the enormous fight next episode.
Over in Meereen, Missandei is bathing and notices Grey Worm
noticing her, and everything is super weird and awkward. Missandei tells
Daenerys about it, and Dany is the worst at girl talk, telling Missandei it can’t
really matter that Grey Worm saw her naked, right, because the Unsullied aren’t
interested in girls. As if whether Grey Worm is physically attracted to
Missandei makes any difference in the fact that he was creepily staring at her
while she’s naked and she clearly felt violated by the whole incident. This
leads to Dany wondering just how much of his bits Grey Worm is missing, which
makes everything even more awkward. I wonder what Benioff and Weiss were trying
to do with this scene; was it just to show that Missandei trusts Dany enough to
bring something like this to her? To try to have some rapport between two women
(since there’s pretty much none anywhere else in the show)? Is it supposed to
show how bad Dany is at relating to other women, and if so, is it because she’s
a leader and therefore more masculine than feminine (because lord knows their
characters can’t have layers)? Or do they honestly think this is how women talk
to each other? You know what might have helped? Having a woman in the writer’s
room. Just sayin’.
The subsequent meeting between Missandei and Grey Worm is
even weirder; he apologizes for looking at her and doesn’t want to lose her
friendship over this incident, because their lessons (she’s teaching him Westerosi)
and her friendship are important to him. She tries to discuss his life before
becoming an Unsullied, but he claims not to remember it and not to regret being
enslaved because it all led up to Dany freeing him and him meeting Missandei. Before
he leaves, she says he’s glad he saw her, and he says he is to, and I’m just
super confused about this whole relationship. I like that they have one; they’re
both such damaged characters who are really two-dimensional in the books, and
expanding and exploring their histories and interactions is a nice touch. But
did we have to turn it sexual (or
sexual-ish)? Couldn’t they just be good friends?
Later, Tywin’s plot from last episode is revealed; he’s sent
proof of Jorah’s spying to Barristan in order to disrupt Dany’s support
structure. Jorah tries to tell her that that’s Tywin’s whole plan and she
shouldn’t give him what he wants, but Dany’s a bit caught up with the fact that
the attempted poisoning was all his fault, because he’s the one who sent the
information to Robert that she was pregnant. She tells him to get out, he
continues to try to talk her out of it, and she tells him to get. Out.
Meanwhile, the Boltons are using Theon to take Moat Cailin,
not by swapping him like Roose had planned before Ramsay messed him up real
good, but by getting him to convince the remaining Ironborn to come out and
surrender. At which point they’re hung on crosses and flayed because who needs
honor? This whole thing might actually have been a major mistake on the Boltons’
part, though, because even pretending to be Theon for a bit might have been
what helped lay the foundation for “Reek” to turn back into “Theon” and rescue
himself.
Also, as much as I generally hate the way the show has
treated Theon’s storyline (and will hate it even more later—just wait), Alfie
Allen has handled the portrayal of barely-hanging-on with some serious mastery.
He’s really great at this and deserves some props.
After the retaking of Moat Cailin goes without a hiccup,
Roose hands Ramsay a writ of legitimization, which is his second mistake, as we’ll
see later. They also shift their seat of power from the Dreadfort to
Winterfell, where they head at the end of this scene.
Petyr and Sansa have to deal with the fallout (heh) of Lysa’s
death, the treatment of which shoves Sansa’s story further away from the book
story. First of all, they took Marillion out of the Eyrie story way back in
season one, so he’s not an available scapegoat. Then, Sansa tearfully admits to
her real identity and supports Petyr’s story to the skeptical lords (and lady)
of the Vale. Her sob story is so convincing that Lady Waynwood gives her a hug,
and Sansa and Petyr exchange looks over her shoulder. With the lords convinced
of Lysa’s insanity leading to suicide, they discuss what to do with Robin in a
lead-up to joining in the war.
Later, Petyr comes to see Sansa in her room and asks why she
helped him; this would have been a good time to strike out on her own, after
all. He doesn’t trust her motives or her ability to play the game, but she
knows that he’d never turn on her because of this Tully-fixation he has. They
exchange super-creepy looks and she goes back to sewing. Later, when they take
Robin out of the Eyrie and down into the Vale, she comes out in the results of
that sewing—a slinky black dress with weird feathery things on the shoulders
cut down to here and a collar-and-chain
necklace and a smug, come-hither look at Petyr who’s drooling all over himself
and I can’t even you guys. There’s just so
much wrong with this.
First of all, Sansa is fourteen.
Maybe fifteen, but barely. Petyr’s well into his thirties, possibly pushing
forty, and his fixation with her is already super
gross without her weird sudden discovery of the power of sexuality. Sexual
manipulation goes against everything she believes in the books; it’s one of
Cersei’s tools, and Sansa explicitly does not
want to be Cersei. Instead of making her into Cersei’s opposite, Benioff
and Weiss have turned her into a baby Cersei and sexualized a child. And don’t
give me that guff about medieval sexual mores and no such thing as childhood
and blah blah, because history doesn’t support it and this isn’t the Middle Ages,
this is a contemporary show with a pre-industrial setting that bears some
resemblance to the Middle Ages and Sansa is a child. Sophie Turner might be in her twenties, but Sansa is a child.
Also, there’s the whole extra-textual discussion of the
costume and how it was developed; in Inside
HBO’s Game of Thrones: Seasons Three and Four, costume designer
Michelle Clapton says that Benioff and Weiss “wanted Sansa to be her own woman
rather than this victim,” and that “after this, she doesn’t really want to sew
anymore” and that somehow that necklace is meant to echo Arya’s sword Needle
and it’s her weapon, and none of that makes any gorram sense, so let’s try to
break it down.
They “wanted Sansa to be her own woman rather than this
victim”: okay, it’s phrased really badly (somehow a woman who’s been the victim
of the kind of abuse Sansa’s endured isn’t “her own” anymore?), but it seems
that they wanted Sansa to take control of her own life rather than being pushed
around by the abusive people who have had her in their clutches since season
one. Fair. But in order to do that,
she has to use her sexual wiles on yet another predatory man who’s only using
her to get what he wants? And sure, if he gets what he wants, she could be
queen, but that doesn’t make him any less of a creepy, predatory, ultimately
abusive, practically pedophile. And we’re supposed to celebrate her choosing to put herself at the mercy of
this man? Somehow this makes her “her own woman”?
“After this, she doesn’t really want to sew anymore”: This
is pretty much right in line with Benioff and Weiss’ disdain for traditionally
female tasks and the ways that the women in A
Song of Ice and Fire use them to gain or maintain power. They completely
miss the whole point of the political power that can be gained by dancing, the
arts, courtesy, and even sewing, so of course when they want to show that Sansa’s
growing up and becoming a power-player, she has to give up traditionally female
pastimes. Instead, she’s got to learn to gain and wield power in one of the two
ways women are allowed to in this version of Westeros: through sex or violence.
Right now, there’s nobody to be violent against,
so sex it is. Did I mention gross?
Finally there’s the thing about that necklace, which makes
the least sense of any of it. It’s “a ring that you stitch through and then
that’s her weapon”? Huh? If it was supposed to look like a needle going through
a circle in order to represent that she’s using her ability to sew as a weapon,
they missed hard. Instead, it looks
to me like a collar with a chain coming off, which conjures up all sorts of
BDSM stuff as well as slavery and ownership and the connotations are just not good.
Arya and Sansa have a near-miss; Sansa’s preparing to leave
the Eyrie just as Arya is finding out that Lysa’s dead, so she doesn’t try to
go into the Eyrie. Since nobody outside the Eyrie knows that Sansa is Sansa,
they don’t know to tell Arya that she’s there. Arya, presumably overcome by the
sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation, bursts out laughing, while Sandor
looks super cranky.
It’s trial-by-combat time, but first we have to have yet
another super weird scene, this one between Jaime and Tyrion. They discuss the
possibility of Tyrion’s death, but then come around to a brain-damaged cousin
who spent all day crushing beetles with a rock and making a weird noise while
doing it. Tyrion tells a whole story about how he used to sit and watch Orson
with his rock and the beetles, trying to figure out why he did it. Not only is
the story completely pointless, as far as I can tell, it makes me like Tyrion
even less because of the way he talks about Orson. He freely admits that
mocking Orson made him feel a bit like everyone else, because at least he also
had someone to look down on, but he also imitates Orson’s manner of speech and
the weird noise he made in a way that seems like it’s supposed to be funny?
Instead, it adds to the problem the show has with ableism by mocking yet
another disabled person, one who doesn’t have Tyrion’s gift of intelligence and
quick-wittedness to defend himself. I understand that this scene is meant to be
bonding between Jaime and Tyrion before Tyrion’s final trial. I don’t
understand why they talk about this
during that time. I don’t understand what the character-building,
world-building, or narrative purpose of it is. There’s so many things they just
skip over, presumably because they don’t have time, but they can spend several
minutes on this? I’m befuddled.
Tyrion’s dragged out into the square, where he berates
Oberyn for drinking before a fight and not wearing a helmet. Oberyn is
confident that today isn’t the day he dies; Oberyn is sometimes an idiot. The
scene progresses more or less like it did in the books, with Oberyn yelling at
Gregor to confess to raping and murdering Elia and killing her children, and
Gregor getting more and more pissed. Oberyn gets a couple of good stabs in with
his poisoned spear, but Gregor ultimately grabs him, pins him down, and crushes
his head. What I’ve never understood (even in the books) is that this bout
seems to have ended in a draw—it takes longer for Gregor to die, but he does
die. He and Oberyn kill each other. So how is Tyrion automatically guilty? It
seems like nobody’s claim is upheld here. My guess? Politics. Tywin calls the
match for Gregor and sentences Tyrion to death because it’s the most
politically expedient thing to do and he hates Tyrion.
RIP:
Oberyn Martell
Black Jack Bulwer
Kegs
Mully
Mole’s Town residents
Kenning
Adrack Humble
Ironborn reavers
Next week: Mance reaches the Wall.
All images from screencapped.net