Game of Thrones Flexes its Strongest Quality
It’s weird that for a show with three dragons, a slew of the un-dead, sex, murder and fratricide, dialogue is the most exciting part, or is it.
Three is a machine gun quality to Quentin Tarantino dialogue. Most of his movies sound like three characters in the room trying to regurgitate the ghetto thesaurus back to each other in a rapid fire fashion. They talk so fast that you don’t often get to consider everything that is said (or how racist some of it is). And while in some cases, the dialogue does deliver (and how), the great pay off in Tarantino movie is the unabashed violence that follows. You know, the type of violence you dream of as a kid after playing one too many Saint’s Row games. It’s gory enough to be serious, but too gory to be taken seriously, it’s a childish equivalent of finger-painting with red when you just throw paint at the background. It relishes in its own excess and that’s what makes it so undeniably gleeful.
Game of Thrones has a more contained brand of violence. Unlike Tarantino, it doesn’t hit you like a runaway train head on, it sneaks up on you at an intersection like a speeding car with broken headlights and sideswipes you off the road. It’s a result of patient, and some would argue excessively drawn up build-up that crescendos for an average of 15–20 minutes of brutality comparable to Mortal Kombat fatality compilations, usually amidst some of the most well choreographed battle scenes on screen (big or small). Yet, it pales in comparison to the show’s exceptional ability to weave the narrative through dialogue.
Last week, the Mad Maxian 10 minute showdown on the high seas satisfied our blood thirst for at least a week and allowed the creators enough good will to dispense with the sacking of both Casterly Rock and Highgarden in a matter of fact fashion, sweep them under the rug in lieu of some of the most tantalizing dialogue the show has ever seen. Even if the show didn’t give us the culmination of Euron Greyjoy is a certified nut-case ending last week, it would still be forgiven for reducing the taking of one of the most impenetrable strongholds in the realm to half a Rocky montage.
The show (and the books) has done an exceptional job of building out complex characters with varying motivations and coordinates of moral topography. It has spent over 5 seasons (and books) establishing these characters and running them through the ringer. We’ve grown familiar with each and every one of them to the point where their decision making and train of thought shouldn’t surprise us anymore. We recognize that Dany would insist on her full title being recited and demand the respect that she’s earned, but we also could easily predict Jon Snow’s simplest of introductions from the first most no nonsense advisor in all the realm. These are who these characters are. We could probably recite this meeting in our heads without seeing it unfold and be pretty close to the truth. Which makes it even more impressive that the show pulls the tension and the excitement of a meeting the internet has asked for nearly three years with a pitch perfect tempo. The only way it could have satisfied reddit more is if in that second scene they just did the down and dirty on the gorges of Dragonstone.
No other show could get away capping an episode this late in the run with a scene with seemingly little consequence. A throwaway in the aftermath of the sacking of Highgarden that is instead presented as a verbal showdown between Lady Olenna Tyrell (pour one out for the real homies) and Jaime Lannister. The Queen of Thorns has spent her time on the show meticulously building out alliances and poisoning children (apparently) and this last showdown, even in death, builds her up as the ultimate master of her craft and it allows her to vibrate Jaime’s moral compass one more time. She reveals to him the type of monster his sister is slowly becoming, something he himself is able to see right before she drinks down the poison… and twists the knife one more time.
The Queen’s Justice has a strong count of these exact scenes, big and small. The meeting of Jon Snow and Tyrion Lanniester on the beach which leads into them basically updating their resumes real time. The bubbling tension of Cersei and Ellaria Sand in the dungeons of King’s Landing, which leads us to hate Cersei even more (my biggest fear is when it’s all said and done she’ll end up on the Iron Throne, because it’s 2017 and despicable people are apparently destined to rule no matter how many special investigators into themselves they fire). Even the minute length reunion we get between Bran and Sansa doesn’t waste a single phrase.
Yes, you may argue that the show’s dialogue adheres to an antiquated structure where bigger words are used where smaller ones will suffice, but such is the world that George R. R. Martin has meticulously constructed. When I was a kid, I used to play Legos and the crown jewel of my collection was a Wild Wild West set that sprawled numerous trains stations, saloons and what I now realize are brothels. It was marvelous. But then they released Star Wars Lego and I created some sort of anime like steampunk future hybrid. It was dope as shit, but it was very out of place and I’m sure my parents thought I had mental issues. What I’m getting at is that if we’re to fully by into the world these characters inhabit, we must commit to the verbiage they choose to use.
And that’s the inherent difference between Game of Thrones and something Tarantino may write. In Tarantino movies, the purpose of the dialogue is to get to the next violent transgression (or an excuse to use a racial slur you probably shouldn’t an excessive amount of times). In Game of Thrones the dialogue is the purpose. It is the main central pillar that holds up this world and creates the characters we’ve committed to following (and demanding online that they fuck) for the past 5 (and a half, thank you extended wait time for season 6) years.
And last night showed us exactly why.
