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nedraggett · 7 years

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Run ragged

It didn’t work. And while I wasn’t surprised by that, I did want to tease out why, at least for myself.

I honestly was openly skeptical of Blade Runner 2049 for a while, so I can’t hide my bias there. I wasn’t totally ‘salt the earth and never mention it again’ then and am certainly not saying that now. But each new trailer left me feeling more ‘uh...really?’ and the explosion of immediate praise from many critics even more so. I wasn’t contrarian, and neither did I think groupthink was at work, but I suspected a massive wish fulfillment was.

So I generally avoided reactions after that and figured I’d wait for things to die down a bit -- even more quickly than I might have guessed, seeing its swiftly collapsing commercial performance over here. My Sunday early afternoon showing near here was about maybe 2/3 full on its third weekend, so it’s found an audience, but I’m in San Francisco -- I expected an audience there. Enough friends have posted theater shots where they were the only person in the room to know this is dying off as an across the board thing, and never probably was.

I’m not glad it failed, but I’m not surprised -- in fact, being more blunt, I think it deserved not to be a hit. The key reason for me played itself out over its length -- it was boring. It’s a very boring movie. It’s not a successful movie except in intermittent moments.

That said, of course not everyone agreed (I’ll recommend as an indirect counterpoint to my thoughts this piece by my friend Matt, which went up earlier today). And boredom is not the sole reason for me to crucify it -- there were a variety of things one can address. I’ll note two at the start since they could be and in a couple of cases I’ve seen were particular breaking points for others:

* The sexual politics of the movie, however much meant to be in line with the original scenario as playing out a certain logic, were often at least confused or hesitant within a male gaze context, at most lazily vile beyond any (often flatly obvious) point-making. I often got a mental sense of excuses that could be offered along the lines of ‘well...you know, it’s supposed to be like that in this world, it’s a commentary!,’ which is often what I’ve seen in positive criticism of, say, Game of Thrones. Maybe. That said: not that any sort of timing played into it, but the fact that Harvey Weinstein’s downfall began two days before release, and the resulting across-board exposure and on-the-record testimonials from many women against far too many men, couldn’t really be escaped. Further, since the fallout was first felt, after all, in the film industry, seeing any film, new or old, through the lens of what’s acceptable and who gets through what hoops -- and who is broken by the experience -- is always important. It’s not for nothing to note that the original film’s female lead Sean Young got shunted into the ‘she’s crazy’/’too much trouble’ file in later years where male actors might perhaps find redemption; the fact that she played a small part in the new film made me think a bit more on her fate than that of her character’s. (Another point I saw a few women brought up as well -- having a key to the whole story be pregnancy and childbirth as opposed to infertility wasn’t warmly received.)

* It’s a very...white future. Not exclusively, certainly. But people of color barely get a look in, a quick scene here, a cameo there. A black female friend of mine just this morning said this over on FB about the one African American actor whose character got the most lines, saying:

to have the only significant black character be this awful, creepy man who seemed to be an "overseer" type to the children, was really uncomfortable and another perfect example of scifi using an 'other' narratives or american slave narrative but within a white context. We all know what it's supposed to represent and so it's just straight up lazy writing at the end of the day and exploitative.

Meantime, another sharp series of comments elsewhere revolved around how a film perhaps even more obviously drenched than the original in an amalgamated East Asian imaginary setting for the Los Angeles sequences barely showcased anyone from such a background. Dave Bautista certainly makes an impact at the start, but after that? The fact that I can think of three speaking roles for actors of that (wide) background in the original, as in actually having an exchange with a lead character, and only one in this one, maybe two if you count the random shouting woman in K’s apartment building, is more than a little off. Add in a ‘Los Angeles,’ or a wider SoCal if you like, that aside from Edward James Olmos’s short cameo apparently has nobody of Mexican background, let alone Central American, in it, and you gotta wonder. My personal ‘oh really’ favorite was the one official sign that was written in English and, I believe, Sanskrit. Great visual idea; can’t say I saw anyone of South Asian descent either.

Both these very wide issues, of course, tie in with the business and the society we’re all in -- but that’s no excuse. And there are plenty of other things I could delve into even more, not least my irritation over the generally flatly-framed dialogue shots in small offices that tended to undercut the grander vistas, or how the fact that Gosling’s character finding the horse carving had been telegraphed so far in advance that it was resolutely unremarkable despite all the loud music, etc. My key point remains: boring. A sometimes beautifully shot and visually/sonically striking really dull, draggy, boring film.

The fair question though is why I think that. A friend in response to that complaint as echoed by others joked what we would make of Bela Tarr films, to which I replied that I own and enjoy watching Tarkovsky movies. Slow pace and long shots aren’t attention killers for me per se; if something is gripping, it will be just that, and justify my attention. Meanwhile, the original film famously got dumped on for also being slow, boring, etc at the time, and plenty can still feel that way about it. Blade Runner’s reputation is now frightfully overburdened and certainly I’ve contributed to it mentally if not through formal written work; it succeeds but is a flawed creation, and strictly speaking the two big complaints I’ve outlined above apply to the predecessor as much as the current film, it’s just a matter of degrees otherwise. But if you told me I had to sit down and watch it, I’d be happy to. Tell me to do the same with this one, I would immediately ask for the ability to skip scenes.

I’ve turned it all over in my head and these are three elements where things fell apart for me, caused me to be disengaged -- not in any specific order, but I’m going to build outward a bit, from the specific to the general, and with specific contrast between the earlier film and the new one. These discontinuities aren’t the sole faults, but they’re the ones I’ve been thinking about the most.

First: it’s worth noting that the new film brings in a lot of specific cultural elements beyond the famed advertising and signs. Nabokov’s Pale Fire is specifically singled out both as a visual cue and as an element in K’s two police station evaluations, for instance. Meanwhile, musically, I didn’t quite catch what song it was Joi was telling K about early in the film but a check later means it must have been Sinatra’s “Summer Wind,” featured on the soundtrack. Sinatra himself of course shows up later as a small holographic performance in Vegas, specifically of “One For My Baby,” while prior to that K and Deckard fight it out while larger holographic displays of older Vegas style revues and featured performers appear glitchily -- showgirls, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis in his later pomp, Liberace complete with candleabra. All of this makes a certain sense and on the one hand I don’t object to it.

But on the other I do. Something about all that rubbed me the wrong way and I honestly wasn’t sure why -- the Nabokov bit as well, even the quick Treasure Island moment between Deckard and K when they first talk to each other. The answer I think lies with the original film. It’s not devoid of references either, but note how two of the most famous are used:

* When Rutger Hauer’s Roy Batty introduces himself to James Hong’s Hannibal Chew, he does so with a modified quote from William Blake’s America: A Prophecy. (This fuller discussion of that quote and how it was changed from the original is worth a read; it’s also worth noting that Hauer brought it to the table, and wasn’t planned otherwise.) But he doesn’t do so by spelling out to the audience, much less Chew, that it is Blake at all. You either have to know it or you don’t. If, say, we saw Batty clearly holding a copy of the book -- or maybe more intriguing, a copy in Deckard’s apartment -- then that would be one thing...but it becomes a bit more ‘DO YOU SEE?’ as a result. Clunkier, a bit like how Pale Fire worked in the new film.

* Even in the original soundtrack’s compromised/rerecorded form, I always loved the one formally conventional song on the original soundtrack, “One More Kiss, Dear.” I just assumed as I did back in the mid to late 80s, when I first saw the film and heard its music, that it was a random oldie from somewhere mid-century repurposed, a bit of mood-setting. It is...but it isn’t. It’s strictly pastiche, a creation of Vangelis himself in collaboration with Peter Skellern, an English singer-songwriter who had a thriving career in his home country. It just seemed real enough, with scratchy fidelity, a piano-bar sad elegance -- which was precisely the point. You couldn’t pin it down to anything, it wasn’t a specifically recognizable element. It wasn’t Elvis, or Liberace, or Sinatra.

This careful hiding of concrete details -- even when the original film showcased other clear, concrete details of ‘our’ world culturally, but culturally via economics and ads -- is heavily to the original’s benefit, I’d argue. There’s a certain trapped-in-baby-boomerland context of the elements in the new film that, perversely, almost feels too concrete, or forced is maybe a better word. It’s perverse because on the one hand it makes a clear sense, but on the other hand, by not being as tied to explicitly cultural identifiers -- whether ‘high’ literature or rough and ready ‘pop’ or whatever one would like to say -- the original film feels that much more intriguingly odd, dreamlike even. I would tease this out further if I could, but it quietly nags -- perhaps the best way I could describe it is this: by not knowing what, in general, the characters, ‘human’ or not, read, listen to, watch in the original, what everyone enjoys -- if they do -- becomes an unspoken mystery. Think about how we here now talk about what we read, listen to, watch as forms of connection with others; think about how the crowd scenes in the originals feature people all on their own trips or in groups or whatever without knowing what they might know. We know Deckard likes piano, sure, but that suggests something, it doesn’t limit it. We know K likes Nabokov and Sinatra -- and that tells us something. And it limits it.

My second big point would also have to do with limits versus possibilities, and hopefully is more easily explained. Both films are of course amalgams, reflections of larger elements in the culture as well as within a specific culture of film. The first film is even more famously an amalgam of ‘film noir’ as broadly conceived, both in terms of actual Hollywood product and the homages and conceptions and projections of the term backwards and forwards into even more work. It is the point of familiar reference for an audience that at the time was a couple of decades removed from its perceived heyday, but common enough that it was the key hook in -- the weary detective called back for one last job, the corrupt policeman, the scheming businessman, the femme fatale, etc. etc. Set against the fantastic elements, it was the bedrock, the hook, and of course it could be and was repurposed from there, in its creation and in its reception.

2049 is not a film noir amalgam. Instead, it’s very clearly -- too clearly -- an amalgam of exactly the wrong place it should have gotten any influence from. By that I don’t mean the original film -- above and beyond the clear story connections, its impact was expected to be inescapable and as it turns out it was inescapable. Instead it’s an amalgam of what followed in the original’s wake -- the idea of dystopia-as-genre -- and that’s poisonous.

Off the top of my head: Children of Men. The Matrix. Brazil. Her. Battlestar Galactica, the 2000s reboot. A bit of The Hunger Games, I’d say. A bit of Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome (not a direct descendant of the original at all, of course -- George Miller always had his own vibe going -- but I caught an echo still). The Walking Dead. A fleck of The Fifth Element. Demolition Man, even, if we want to go ‘low’ art. But also so many of the knockoffs and revamps and churn. There could be elements, there could be explicit references, there could be just a certain miasma of feeling. But this all fed into this film, and made it...just less interesting to me.

Again, the first film is no less beholden to types and forebears. But the palette wasn’t sf per se, it was something else, then transposed and heightened and made even uneasier due to what it was. 2049 has to not only chase down its predecessor, it has to live with what its predecessor created. But did it have to take all that into itself as well? It becomes a wink and a nod over and again, and a tiring one, a smaller palette, a feeding on itself. And it’s very frustrating as a result, and whatever spell was in the film kept being constantly rebroken, and the scenes kept dragging on.

This all fed into the third and final point for me -- the key element, the thing that makes the original not ‘just’ noir, the stroke of genius from Philip K Dick turned into tangible creations: the replicants, and the question of what it is to be human. Humanity itself has assayed this question time and time over -- let’s use Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as a start if we must for the modern era, it’s as good as any. We as a species -- if we individual members can afford the time and reflection at least -- seem to enjoy questions of what makes us ‘us,’ and what we are and what we have in this universe. This much is axiomatic, so take that as read.

The replicants in the original film -- famously thought of differently by Dick and Ridley Scott, to the former’s bemusement when they met and talked for their only meeting before the latter’s death -- set up questions in that universe that are grappled with as they are by the characters in different ways. Between humans, between replicants, between each other, lines always slipping and shading. Their existences are celebrated, questioned, protested against. But we don’t live in these conversations for the most part, we tend to experience the characters instead; it’s often what’s unsaid that has the greatest impact. And if the idea of a successful story-teller is to show rather than tell, then I would argue that, again, flawed as it can be, the original film succeeds there be only telling just enough, and letting the viewer be immersed otherwise. (Thus of course the famous after the fact narration in the original release insisted upon by the studio, and removed from later cuts to Scott’s thorough relief.)

By default, that level of quiet...I would almost call it ‘awe’...in the original can’t be repeated with the same impact. The bell cannot be unrung, but that’s not crippling. What was crippling was how, again, bored I was with the plight of the characters in 2049. How unengaged in their concerns I generally was. One key exception aside, I never bought K’s particular angst outside of plot-driven functionality, and frankly they often felt like manikins all the way down from there. Robin Wright’s police chief had some great line deliveries but the lines were most often banal generalities that sounded ridiculous. Jared Leto’s corporate overlord, good god, don’t ask. As for Joi and Luv, Ana de Armas and Sylvia Hoeks did their best, and yet the characters felt...functional. Which given the characters as such would seem to be appropriate, but their fates were functional too. Of course one would do that, of course the other would do that, of course one would die the one way, of course the other would die that way, and...fine. Shrug.

So, then, Deckard? Honestly Harrison Ford had the best part in the film and while I found him maybe a bit more garrulous than I would have expected from the character, he did paranoid, wounded and withdrawn pretty damn well. Not to mention comedy -- the dog and whisky combo can’t be beat, and it’s worth remembering his nebbishy ‘undercover’ turn in the original -- and, in the Rachel scene, an actual sense of pathos and outrage. I bought him pretty easily, and it made everyone else seem pretty shallow. When K learns about the underground replicant resistance and all, the bit about everyone hopes they are the one was nice enough, but the rest of it, clearly meant to be a ‘big moment,’ was...again, dull, per my second point about the limited palette. A whole lot of telling, not much showing, and such was the case throughout. It was honestly a bit shocking -- but also very clear -- to myself when I realized how little I cared about humans or replicants or any of it at all towards the end. It all felt pat and played out, increasingly unfascinating, philosophy that was rote. It could just be me, of course -- maybe this is an issue where the stand-ins of replicants versus realities of robots and AI, along with the cruelties we’re happy to inflict on each other, means the stand-ins simply don’t have much of an imaginative or intellectual grip now.

Still, though, I’ll give the film one full scene, without Ford. As part of his work, and to answer the questions in his own head, K visits Ana Stelline, a designer of replicant memories. This, more than anything else in the film outside of certain design and musical elements, felt like the original, or something that could be there. It introduced a wholly new facet -- how are memories created for replicants? -- while extending the idea that instead of one sole creator of replicants there are multiple parts makers with their specialized fields in an unexplained (and unnecessary to be explained) economy. Stelline’s literal isolation allows for space and the limits of communication to be played out in a way that makes satisfying artistic sense, and Carla Juri plays her well. It builds up to an emotional moment that sends K into an explosive overdrive that is actually earned, and Juri’s own reaction of awe and horror is equally good. But -- even better -- the scene ends up taking a wholly new cast later in the film, when more information reveals what was actually at play, and what K didn’t know at the time, and makes the final scene a good one to end on in turn (and by that I mean back in her office, specifically).

The problem though remains -- one scene can’t make a film. One can argue that it’s better to reach and fail than not at all, but it’s also easily argued that one gets far more frustrated with something that could have worked but didn’t. I don’t think an edit for time would have fixed the film but it would have made it less of a slog while not sacrificing those visual/sonic elements that did work; it still would leave a lot of these points I’ve raised standing, but it would have gone down a little more smoothly, at least. But sometimes you’re just bored in a theater, waiting for something to end.

#blade runner #blade runner 2049

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cattythoughts-blog · 7 years

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Game of Thrones: The Alternate Ending

Intro of Dissatisfaction

Okay, so I’ve never been much of a revisionist when it comes to story-telling. Whatever ending I got, I could have mixed feelings about with no sway one way or the other to impact my overall enjoyment of a story. When stories go completely off the rails from what they once were (first 3 seasons of Supernatural vs everything after, Penny Dreadful season 3, Hannibal) I can still enjoy the show and, in the end, hold whatever first few good seasons I did have close to my heart.

And, I think the reason for this is that all all those shows had an “ending” before their true season ending. That ending paid off everything and was consistent with theme and tone first presented. Which brings up the question: What do you do when you have a story as big as Game of Thrones, a grand-scale epic by design? There can’t be a satisfying conclusion mid-way through the Game of Thrones show, where everything comes together because there’s too much going on. Too many loose strings. Too many factions. Stannis Baratheon’s death after burning his daughter could have been that great end-point of the show (the Baratheons known for gaining power by drawing the blood of their relatives finally take infighting to the deepest, darkest conclusion and are left with ashes) if we’d only been following Stannis, the Battle of the Bastards for the stark plot (to resolve the imbalance of rule of the north. The show starting with Ned and his family losing power and this culminating in the ultimate regain of that power through virtuous means but also new compromise and understanding of the “Great Game” on Sansa’s part), go all the way back to the Red Wedding and that could be that satisfying cut-off point if we only cared about the Starks.

Instead, there’s a show pushing a bolder of its own plot threats up a mountain, slowly dwindling in stakes and tension as the plot armor becomes too strong to kill of anyone important. That’s kind of a problem. The show has lost what made it, and the books, so great in the first place. Understand that I’m mostly talking about the show Game of Thrones, not the book series—but, this is actually a problem I have with both if George RR Martin and the writers are shooting in the same direction. If the TV show was without a doubt Full Metal Alchemisting these final seasons, I would probably not feel the need to write this. I’d just wait for the books and get my sweet, sweet, Brotherhood fix with George’s conclusion—but what if George’s conclusion is the show’s conclusion? If the end-goals set up in the show are the ones I’m to expect in the books then all I can say is—George…my man…my buddy…my better Santa…dafq?

The Core of Game of Thrones:

Here’s what I mean:

The main selling point of George RR Martin’s books is not realism—stop that, please. When people say “realism”, they’re talking about the feeling of stakes and motivation that copy realism. In realism, a lot more people would have died from drinking the bacteria in foreign fresh water and syphilis by now. George RR Martin doesn’t kill people without purpose. They have a thematic or plot-related edge to them that makes every death make sense in the grand scheme of things.

The main selling point of Georg RR Martin’s books is the subversion of expectation, actively taking tropes and turning them on their heads, and the consequences of actions. Every character is out to get something and if you don’t know what they want or how to make them think you can get it for them, you’ve lost. Here’s the problem of the show since season 5, more prominent in 6, and overt in 7, there are no consequences. All that cold-calculated conversation where you were trying to figure out what someone really wanted in the end-game is gone. All those terrible decisions made by Danny don’t backfire and have an overall consequence on how she’s viewed as a leader. Cersei—well the Margery-taking-over-thing was pretty good and the religion backfiring—but no consequence for blowing up the church when (especially in the books) it is explicitly stated that any ruler who ever did that was turned on by the people? The Iron Born suddenly decide to go and team up with Danny and give up their old ways in a snap because we need clear dividing lines on who is good and who is evil to wrap up this thing. Arya gets away with “tricking” the many faced men—the ultimate deception crew? No!

But, here’s the thing that frustrates me the most about all of this, up until Season 7, I could live with it. Fine. The overall story still had some promise to it. We have the “prince that was promised” thread, Tyrion “using” Danny to get revenge on his family or just see what happens (though in the show they kind of just make him love her and have no motive). Jon essentially usurping Sansa’s birthright to be lady of Winterfell and keeping Little Finger around while also having not told him about the vale, and then the whole Arya killing spree she was finally going to go on, Cersie dealing with a city/country that had to hate her after blowing up the church, the white walkers still had potential to be twisted as some kind of “no yeah, we’re sapient, and it’s cold and we just wanna go south, shut up” type-thing. Pieces were in place to be played with and set in order that was unexpected—an order with consequence.

Why Season 7 Fails:

What did I get in season 7?

In a nutshell: sister’s fighting over nothing from 5+ years ago—Danny and Jon, the 5$ love story. Cersei sitting in her chair with a fresh set of crazy pants and Jamie being angry, but not enough to do anything about it. And last—OH NO—That one! That dragon! I’m not sure which one but oh no…oh no…that one’s dead. Bummer. Wall down. Scene.

So…what was the consequences of this season? What were the biggest changes? The wall came down because the walkers had a dragon. Everything else was putzing around until that point. I’m not even joking. Little Finger’s death means nothing because he’s an inactive player in the story at that point. Danny’s getting evil—except—she’s always been evil (well, like, shes no more ruthless than she had been before). She crucified an entire city, so burning two guys alive is not out of character for her and changes nothing about the propoganda. Jon being declared the prince that was promised means nothing because that prophecy is vague. Bran’s omnipotent and missed the part where his aunt whispered the baby’s legal name because…reasons. Oh, oh, and the sand snakes finally died. Cheers to that.

Petty Child Explaining the Petty Rant

Now, here’s why I’m so mad. Because they have set up for—maybe not a great ending—but a good one that stays true to the tone of the books. Yes, this is the part where I say I can do better—and I really REALLY wish I couldn’t. The fact that I want every action to have a consequence, should not be something I have to insert to a story.

The following is “fixing” Season 7 of Game of Thrones, working with the plot threads set up at the beginning. I’m not going all the way back to 6 or 5 because that’s too much work, and I’m honestly just doing this for my own piece of mind. You can tell me this version of season 7 sucks. Hey, you’ve got the real TV version written by people with more talent and success than I’ll ever see. I’m some idiot with a keyboard and some ranting issues. Also, I’m more editing things that already exist like “working off the same budget” not adding new things, just going with what they gave me.

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So, the best way to fix this is to go narrative thread by thread, so let’s start with the 2nd worst one first. Danny. Oh…Danny, Danny, Danny. So much set up. No payoff. Loved you this season, girl. In the original Season 7, nothing changes with her character besides her becoming the ultimate Mary Sue with everyone falling in love with her left and right and her never dying on her dragons. Nothing she does or says or what people do or say to her this season have consequence unless it leads to getting into her nephew, Jon’s, pants (is anyone else not creeped out that there are literally no degrees of separation there. Her brother was his father. He’s sleeping with is aunt…no? And she’s totally going to get pregnant with an incest baby next season because they made a really huge point of saying she couldn’t have kids (and that’s mostly a man’s fault if you can’t have kids—like biologically speaking). Okay, it was a thing when the Lannisters were doing it but sure).

DANNY CHANGE:

To explain how to fix Danny is to explain her overall relevance to the plot—the plot of Game of Thrones. Her mechanical purpose was two main things. 1. Bring dragons to the army that dies of getting burned so that they can be defeated by getting burned, but also so that they have a dragon to break down the wall and make plot happen. 2. Be the inspirational invader that provides pressure for the native forces to band together and fight on two fronts (north and south) while bringing in these foreign fighters.

Danny is not meant to sit on the iron throne. Mechanically, she has been foreshadowed to be a great conqueror and a terrible, terrible ruler. In the books, it is better portrayed that she’s a little girl who can draw in inspiration, but has no clue what she’s doing when we get down to brass tax. In the show, she’s like mid-20s, so it doesn’t come off the same way. But, that’s the core of her. A girl who does not want to become the monster of her past, but believes that her lineage—not her actions—makes her deserving—not earning—of the Iron Throne. She wants to rule over this country because it exists and someone told her it was hers. Danny is a villain so letting the invasion play out is fine, but the two major threads need to be addressed. 1. Dragons are in Westeros (check), but now they need to go north. 2. Danny is leading inspiration and causing terror (check if you do the first 3 episodes of her plot the same).

There’s two main themes for Danny this season that culminate into nothing. She’ll ask for advice and listen to no one after they’ve given that advice “Be a dragon.” That should make Tyrion more frustrated with her and put a strain on their relationship because Westeros is Tyrion’s home, and he’s trying to put a ruler on it that he can’t mold to his views so easily. She’s an impulsive child. That’s what you should get out of all those close calls where she takes her dragon and nearly gets killed. The other theme is succession. After Danny is gone, what will happen? Danny doesn’t want to think about that, but she’s this inspirational ruler that brought armies across the sea for her. What do they have to fight for if Danny is dead? This isn’t their home. They won’t care after she’s gone. That’s why the children thing kept being brought up, and it’s never acted upon. So, here’s Danny’s conclusion for Season 7.

That stupid plot with the guys going across the wall to kidnap a walker happens, they’re on that lakebed… sure. Tweak it. As Danny swoops in to save them she is yet again not listening to advice and endangering herself. Danny drops with Drogo to go pick up the SQUAD and it’s too hot. She gets on a dragon, commands one to pick up the boys while she goes straight for the white walker kings (as the boys could have pointed out to her that you kill the boss, the adds die). And then, that Olympic-gold-winning javelin throw goes straight into Drogo (the only dragon you can actually tell apart) with Danny riding on his back. They both plummet to the ground behind a mountain or something (not in the lake because where’d the wights get chains?) out of sight and the SQUAD has to take the walker and run because one of the least favorite children dragons takes them away already. Jon can even have his stupid staying behind moment if he was trying to get Danny if they really needed that scene (he’d have a reason to stay in the middle of the army of wights fighting one or two because he’s just as impulsive and brash). I’d prefer everyone just left on least-favorite-dragon #1 or #2 and they flew back over the wall.

Then, by the end of the season, the white walkers now have the ice dragon they wanted. Not just any dragon. The only dragon the audience could name/care about: Drogo. (maybe Danny’s in there too as a wight, or a wight king if we wanna apply the rule of cool—like this would be kind of dumb but I’d want to see it. It’s probably more poetic for her to fall off the dragon and one of her least favorite children to pull her corpse out of the snow and fly her home).

What does this change/do?

Danny’s arc is a woman who doesn’t want to be an evil ruler but is not willing to learn or be flexible. Her inflexibility and inability to understand her limits because of years of have the ultimate advantage of dragons is what causes her death, ending that thread. Two, now what are Danny’s forces doing in Esos? Tyrion still has this army to deal with and they have no leader, no inspiration. That burning fire that has been carrying them is snuffed out and an entire group of people who’d hoped to find a great ruler (Tyrion’s hope) is dead. As for Danny, she did not want to become a mad king like her father, she did not want to kill hundreds of thousands, but due to her inflexibility, her ultimate drive for power, her defiance of death shown many times throughout the series—she has failed to reach her ultimate potential (and if we go with the white walker thing, she defies death for the final time becoming the ultimate conqueror of death and the destined ultimate conqueror of the nation she set out to rule, but not how she would have wanted. (but this one I’m ehh on because I got a better plan)) She’s fallen to tragedy because of her lack of familiarity with the country she was going to reign over. (also something else pays off from this in like 10 paragraphs, I’m sorry).

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Chopping block goes to Cersei next…also not that long. Mostly because it’s not hard to make it interesting.

CERSEI FIXING WHAT’S BROKE

Cersei’s character is fine. It’s not great, it’s not the best with the magic plot lack of logic, but it’s fine. Have her do the thing with the iron bank and take Highgarden…Highgarden—the wealthiest country—being overthrown because…rich people don’t have the biggest armies to protect their loot? Oh my god, Highgarden. The way the show presented it, I could run in there with a toothpick and win.

Anyway, sure. But, the people hate her because she blew up their religion. (I know the show plays it off that the people think it’s an accident but…come on). Consequences is that she now has lack of support from the people while this foreign invader tears up her home. She needs aid. So…she’ll call upon the north, upon Winterfell because there’s a new Boss up there who may be wiling to work with her. She hears they’re in need of military aid. Why wouldn’t she band together as many men as she could from all corners of her country to kill Danny?

When she summons Jon, he’s already south yucking it up with Danny so Sansa has to deal with that.

What does this change?

Things remain basically the same, but Cersei has to be willing to drag in new allies like she did with the Iron Born. The Lannisters have always been a flexible group. With the North having a new power player, why wouldn’t she reach out to them? Also, she should be shown protecting the people to keep them happy. It has never been a more crucial time to get rid of the problem that is Danny. Danny is making the people unhappy as Cersei’s reign is starting with the terror of invasion. People already hate Cersei. The longer Danny’s around, the more they’ll hate her. Now, she has motivation beside territory claims to hate Danny. Motivation is clear, it’s present, and it relies on public opinion—something the Lannisters are slaves to. The lions do consider the opinions of the sheep.

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That Meeting at the End Tho:

Okay, that last episode was everyone bitching until nothing got accomplished or changed. Here’s how you change/fix it. Danny wasn’t invited. Cersei organized the meet-up, inviting Jon along with other lords she’s going to try to win over. Jon happens to be doing exactly what he’d been doing throughout the entire season with the walker expedition (there’s honestly just no good way to fix this, unless they break the wall early or if they just have Danny fly up, swoop down to grab a white and fly back. I get it. Mechanically, walkers need to be shown as real and dragon needs to die. Mostly, dragon needs to die) So the show can do whatever needed to happen to get Jon to meet Danny and be like…you’re a hot aunt. That…happened. Then the usual sich happens with Jon coming back with the walker. Sure. Whatever.

But, we changed what happened with Danny. Danny’s now dead. Tyrion is the one in charge. So…what does he do when the Queen’s dead? Tell everyone pack up and go home? NO! He’s got a steak grilling on this army. He wants his family out of power and this is the only way he’s ever going to get anywhere. He’ll show up, uninvited, as the ambassador for the queen, a messenger protected by the knight’s law (or a dragon). He will take a seat at the council saying that Danny wants to negotiate peace in order to fight the wight walkers. Spin the excuse so that he says it was Danny’s plan all along to invade Westeros just to kill the things in the north and she has every intention of leaving afterwards (some kind of clever bs lie that gets his foot in the door and makes Cersei consider it).

We’ll come back to this in a second, but the point is, this meeting had a reason to happen. Here, there’d be tension because…why couldn’t Danny come herself? Cersei has a reason afterwards to doubt the power of Danny. Tyrion is left a leader, unofficially an equal with his sister.

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Next important plot line is Sansa, but it won’t be touched on that much. Because, basically, for what they were going for, they did okay. Like…yeah…if you took Sansa, put her in her own Sansa box in this season and edited some things in your mind, it’s cool.

SANSA, LADY OF WINTERHELL:

Okay, so first off, Jon has to scream at Sansa for not letting anyone know that she had a cavalry that would be a larger army. That knowledge alone would have prevented many deaths in the battle of the bastards. (or at least have it that Sansa told him and then they go like “Oh, I guess the vale didn’t show…shit we have to fight these guys on our own” and then it just turns out the vale was late. Jimmy stubbed his toe—anyway). Sansa and Jon have a power dynamic that is inherently interesting—until it’s presented to you.

A bunch of old white guys chose a bastard over a queen and Sansa’s birthright was taken from her. Now, the reason this is cool is because, though the Starks are the closest family, they haven’t seen each other in years and Sansa has grown up in places of manipulation and deceit. Living with her Aunt should have broken trust she had in family ties. Jon, has usurped her and she’ll see it like that, but know that he’s too stupid to have done it on purpose.

In public, she has to put on a bold face because if they go against Jon, they go against the Starks. She and Jon are a packaged deal in the eyes of the northerners right now, so she has to be quiet and kind in public, while in private, they can have those confrontations. (If Sansa learned anything from the series, it should have been to keep her mouth shut and pretend to be one unbreakable unit—but she doesn’t in the show. Pretend she did in this version and went against Jon only in private). Sansa would be caught between two things: The love and trust she has left in her family, and survival through playing the great game. She can love Jon, but think he is a terrible leader in Winterfell, think/ know she can do better, be great where Jon is failing.

When that letter comes from Danny inviting the king of the north, it should be Sansa pushing Jon to let her stay in charge if he does go—because she knows he will go. Make it her decision. The consequences of her conversations with him are carefully crafted for Jon to instill confidence in her and leave Winterfell to her as if it was his idea. Sansa wants power because she thinks she can be better. So, Jon shoves off, and she’s lady of Winterfell, to many people’s chagrin.

Then, she uses the tactics she learned in the south, throwing sly comments here and there that make people twist on themselves and acknowledge her as ruler and stabilizes her power. She’s not trying to take the throne back from Jon as much as she’s trying to secure it (instead of little finger doing all of this for her). The entire Season 7 could have been her dance between loving her family and desiring power because she can’t trust anyone else with it. Little Finger would be the devil on one shoulder, whispering encouragement to be tricky. She could employ him to sway the Vale her way, making their change in allegiance and sudden trust in Sansa not LIttle Finger make sense. Arya would be the voice family on the other shoulder.

Little Finger would still die in the end. Sansa, the most Tully of the Starks, ultimately choosing family over the poison she’s seen in the slimy pursuit of power—but she will want to remain lady of Winterfell because she’s doing such a good job at it and Jon (who she hasn’t seen in years, has deserted the night’s watch, come back, and never even waved at her as he passed their home some 2 odd times on his travel past the wall and back) isn’t capable, and she uses her manipulation to strengthen the FAMILY not herself.

What does Sansa change?

This basically gives Sansa more agency and culminates in payoff for her arc. That whole thing where Arya was accusing Sansa of wanting power comes off as flat in the show because you know Sansa already chose family and hasn’t been manipulative, it’s only been Little Finger. So…give those actions weight. If Sansa really is torn, show why, because she has more than enough reason to be.

She’s a new ruler of people in uncertain times whose alliances are in a shifting period. Power is hers and Jon’s but unstable and she should be able to see it. She does in the show. The fickleness of the people around her is a danger and honest tactics, which rely on knowing another’s character, is impossible for someone like Sansa or Jon who haven’t been present. Have men whispering of usurping the absent Starks, saying things were better before this dumb war. Have them saying two children of Ned, their failure, will get them all killed. Have Sansa deal with that. She’s learned from her travels how to be clever, how to make people follow her, how to gain power, but only ever power for herself. Here, with her family, she’ll take the cruelty she learned and grow as a character to expand her definition of rule and make the Starks, as a house, as a name, strong as a pack.

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So, let’s go to the next major plot thread that made me gnash my teeth: Sibling rivalry. I think the worst part about this is that the fight between Sansa and Arya never needed to happen. It has no consequence. It had no reaosn to exist because niether sister changed status. Before, they were annoyed with one another but willing to work together. After, it’s the same thing. The presentation of this plot is also terrible. The writers leave you in the dark with Sansa and Arya because they want a cheap “shock factor” when Sansa puts Little Finger on trial. But for an entire season, Arya is bringing up bs from 5 years ago (as sisters tend to do) and threatening to murder her own sister over it! But, twist! Sansa and Arya actually weren’t fighting—but they were-and it was all a ploy to get Little Finger exposed…only we were only ever shown Arya saying she is super jiving to kill Sansa in a room with no one else around. Why would a single private conversation between them ever end with Arya threatening to kill her sister if they’re fine with each other by the end? It certainly wasn’t for Little Finger’s benifit, he clearly wasn’t around. It was to manipulate the audience, and it’s dumb. Simple as that. Dumb. Soap Opera levels of lacking in consequence. (In my head, Bran was the one to end it. Like the fight between the girls got so bad it literally created a future that would tear down Winterfell, so he had to grunt and wheel himself into a room with them. Then he used his omnipotent power and told both his sisters to stop being idiots off screen).

Arya…oh god. She has plot armor just because she’s the favorite and it hurts. Nothing hurts more than seeing a 14 year-old rave about how they could have done everything better and you suck for bending to the world. And, unfortunately, she hasn’t had to compromise for a long time. Everyone she interacts with lets her get away with things that would kill other characters. (many faced men plot). Somehow, she’s still one of my favorite characters in principle, but execution is….er… The girl needs a thematic slap on the wrist.

ARYA AND THE MANY-FACED CONTRIVANCES

Let’s look at the core of Arya’s character again. She’s the reluctant princess. The girl who was wild and always wanted to be wild, and there were consequences for that for a very long time. She was never able to be a proper lady, and judged for that so she turned to being tough. That was great with the hound and the red wedding for a long time. Her learning the hardships and cruelties of the world and the need for compromise through a man like the hound was great.

Then, she goes to the many-faced men and…tricks them. The cult that makes a living understanding people and taking on the personas as their own indoctrinated a faker because 12-16 year old Arya was the first kid to try to trick them? By being good at the hazing ritual of being blind that everyone probably had to go through? It’s dumb, but roll with it because the books is doing it cleverly so I’ll live.

Let’s say we keep that, but that the many-faced man let her go because he knew she’d only be more trouble if she stayed. (GLaD0s motivation pretty much. Want her gone because killing her has proven to be more trouble than its worth). Arya can have her Frey thing and the poisoning scene, but then she goes home to Winterfell. She was on a murder spree until she heard Jon was alive. When she gets there and there’s no Jon, she should want to go right back to murder. She’ll want to leave. But Sansa, seeing Arya is trying to travel alone to the most dangerous place in the country, will want to keep her around. As far as Sansa’s concerned, Arya is a child. To Sansa, if she goes out on her own again, she may very well die. Sansa has to keep Arya in Winterfell, lock her in for her own good, not wanting to split up a family. Arya can even tell Sansa she has people on her list to kill and Sansa isn’t going to believe her sister became a magical face-murderer. She’ll say “Okay, that’s nice. Wash up for dinner, don’t stab anyone, please stop creeping everyone out by staring at them like they all killed Nymeria.”

So, Arya has a reason to bring up distrust and events of Sansa’s past. The sister fight now has a purpose grounded in the characters and their actions. The fight still shouldn’t last long. At best, two episodes. The consequences of a conversation/fight matter more than the actual fight/conversation.

Set the scene so that Arya confronts and threatens to kill Sansa in that lying game. Sansa says something like this, “I’m keeping you here because I love you and I love my family. I don’t want you to die, and I don’t believe that you can waltz into king’s landing and kill the Lannister’s. You’re a child. You’re going to get yourself killed so excuse me for trying to keep what little of our family is left together. You belong home to be a lady of the house and help when winter is coming!” Only, you know, written well.

Arya is told for the first time since bravos that she’s not “the shit.” (because who was listening to the waif or the many-faced guy. No one she’s taken seriously has talked her off of her high horse in a while and it shows). So the fight happens and though it ended with Sansa confessing her choice of choosing family over power, Arya takes it to heart that someone thinks she can’t take care of herself. She hates the the idea that she may still be that powerless little girl watching her father get executed from season one. All that’s been keeping her going since that point is that list. If she can’t check off the names, and can’t be a proper lady, what’s left of her? She’s stuck in the past, stuck in a fantasy that will be a revisionist history and keep her from achieving closure.

Thinking this, Arya runs away from Winterfell and fast-travels to King’s Landing. There, she steals the face of another servant girl and tries to kill Cersei, but the mountain (or something) catches her and her face is removed. Cersei (who’d is about to have a council meeting with the king in the north) will now have leverage. She’ll use Arya as a pawn to win the Stark loyalty, showing her craft and desperate need for allies.

Arya gets traded for Jon’s declaration of loyalty. He’ll choose family over Danny (who he’s been dicking around with for a while the same way as in the show, sure). Now we got a happy little brigade that’s going to fight the white walkers together.

What does this change?

Now, there’s a reason for Arya to stay in Winterfell and for her to have a conflict with Sansa. It also fleshes out Sansa’s family vs cunning theme we were going for. Now, Arya can bring up her sister’s past mistakes because Sansa is actually trying to overthrow Jon, so there’s grounds for suspicion. NOW this fight has a consequence. It leads to Arya, who’d been a character shown to be consumed by revenge, relentlessly pursuing that path instead of truly coping.

When Arya fails to kill Cersie, it makes an impact on her character. She goes to thinking she’s just as powerless as she was when she was little, and it crushes her, frustrates her, boils in her. She can’t stand that thought. She’s trapped in the past and now her purpose is shown to be infeasible. She’s the weak princess she didn’t want to be. (of course, she’s not actually, but that’s what she would think of herself as she’s taken down a peg and she’ll understand her sister’s need to play the game.)

What else does this change? Something that I really hate. (coming up next).

THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED

I wonder who—it’s Jon. It’s always Jon. Sure. But NO! NO! NO! NO!

Here’s why I say NO! Because prophecies in this show have been used as kind of like a cryptic underline to events that happen. Whatever is said is not always whatever is meant. Now, remember when everyone was theorizing who could be the prince that was promised and this is basically Game of Thrones Jesus? For the story to be in keeping with it’s original tone, Game of Thrones Jesus should not exist! Jon should not be him. He’s the most obvious choice and the show has built that up since day one. Sure. It was a three-way tie between Jon, Danny and Tyrion for a long time. But…how about this:

Keep it the obvious choice everyone discounted. Keep it Danny.

“But…you killed Danny in this narrative before anyone got to smash,” you say.

“I did!” I say to you. “Because we’re going to make this prophecy better.”

Arya has been set up as the girl who can steal faces, someone designed to slip into personas that aren’t hers and nothing of use has been done with that. (I mean in the overall plot. There’s this story telling tool that says you introduce a mechanic early on in a book and reuse that mechanic for another purpose later that wouldn’t be initially thought of. Face stealing is a mechanic with boundless potential).

What if, at this meeting with Cersei, Arya is thrown in the center with the face of the servant she tried to use. Arya’s called a witch. Tyrion takes notice (because we put him at that meeting already). When Arya is traded back, and Jon has her, Tyrion takes Arya aside and asks her if she can slip into any face. (This is why we need Danny’s corpse back—Oh shit, Danny could be that white walker they present to Cersei. Like, they got what they wanted…you know what? They should have literally just brought someone [like a prisoner marked for death or something] over the wall, killed them, tied up the corpse, waited for the corpse to reanimate, walk back…ANYWAY). Tyrion and Arya have a conversation about the face-stealing-thing and a plan forms in his mind.

He looks to Arya and asks, “How would you like another chance at ending the Lannister reign? I can help you kill all the people on your list.” (With better written dialogue). Arya’s super down for this plan. Why wouldn’t she be?

They got the Danny-dead-body-face and Arya slips it on. Now, she’s impersonating queen Danny. In comes the Princess that was promised. Arya will be exactly who she wanted to be, Nymeria, the conquering queen, who has to juggle the duality of the game in her deception, with the gore and violent vengeance promised to her. Now, the legacy of Danny will truly be one of a merciless mad-queen driven only to kill the enemy. Burn them all, Arya. Burn them all.

WHY?

Because I don’t doubt that Jon Snow’s birth would be a great twist, but it makes the prophecy too obvious now. It fits too well. I hate the prince that was promised prophecy because of how much it adheres to modern convention. I just think George has set up a world that can easily subvert the obvious. If it turned out that someone was wearing the face of the person who was supposed to be this prophesied messiah, that’s so much better in my opinion. (It also has to be someone the audience has as much attachment to as Danny. Someone from season 1, who won’t be a “lesser” replacement. You still want to keep people interested after killing off a major character so another major character has to take her place). Arya’s technically Danny from that point on, making her the prince that was promised. The “savior” is now Arya, the girl consumed by revenge and blood, the girl shaped in this world, taken all around it, and culminated into this leader for people she doesn’t care about. Her own goals are short-sighted, leaving her a pawn for Tyrion (a great ruler the people would never follow) to shape the world as he sees fit. You can even add Cersie’s prophecy that a younger queen will usurp her–Arya in Danny’s skin.

You remember that phrase “The dragon has three heads?” One for Danny (the OG ruler), one for Arya/impersonator, one for Tyrion (the man who will rule in her name). I know it’s supposed to refer to the riders, but let me dream.

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Oh my god, we’re finally near the end! There’s other plot points that aren’t great, but they either ultimately don’t impact the story that much, are implied with the changes, are fine as they are, or I don’t care. This is long enough as it is. A few closing thoughts: you can’t have a long-running series and kill off all the main characters while still keeping investment intact, I get it. Danny’s a favorite, so is Jon, so is Arya, so is Peter Dinklage. That’s why they have super thick plot armor. But, the show has grown toothless. The overall story is not the story of these characters. It’s the country’s story. How this one continent ends up scarred by the damage of people who ends up ruling it. Whoever sits on the Iron Throne says something about the world, not the people in it.

The main conflict of the show is that there’s this terrible force coming in from the north. While it’s approaching, power has to be a loose structure and chaos has to run rampant through all of Westeros. If you watch everything before season 6 and say “Hey, looks like this country’s plot line is finally going to be in order and we may have a stable and just power structure”—No. That’s why you had the Red Wedding, that’s why you had the Lord of Light and demon baby, that’s why you have a line of dead Lannister kings. It’s a world-wide story. That’s why there’s no mini-cut off point with perfect plot resolution.

Also, I know there’s a lot of cool stuff in the books I’m not mentioning. That’s because the books and show are separate entities with just the main stretch goals as their common ground at this point (I guess). So, most of this is show-based.

I feel like I said this before, but I don’t hate this series. I love it. I’ve had a lot of fun with it. There’s a metric ton of talent going into the show and the books and I am glad they exist. I’m still dying waiting for the next book, and the show will have my groaning support every Sunday when it next airs. Until then, for my own piece of mind, I’ll just scream at this wall.

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