What in the Seven Hells is This: the New York Times Reviews Game of Thrones

This morning, I read the New York Times review for Game of Thrones. If you don’t remember the debacle last year, the reviewer enraged many people (women and men) by labeling it “boy fiction.” Upon reading that review, I put on some high heels and read the entire damn GoT series. (You see, up until that point, I’d only seen the show.)

I had hoped, next time, the Times would learn, that perhaps they could dig up a reviewer with an appreciation for the fantasy genre. I was incredibly wrong. This year, we’ve got a man who doesn’t quite understand the major factors behind Game of Thrones. The show, like the books, is about subtlety, the slow reveal, danger, and figuring out who can be trusted.

From the onset, the reviewer (Neil Genzlinger) laments a plotline from last season, where the noble and awesome Ned Stark is beheaded with his own freakin’ sword by the most selfish tyrant since Veruca Salt. Imagine, if you would, Veruca Salt with a crown – and a less appealing temperament. Then, you have Joffrey, the current king of the seven kingdoms. We’ll get to him in a minute. Ned Stark died last season, so why bring him up? The reviewer seems to claim that this is the wrong setup for the series, that the show no longer has a focus. Except in killing Ned Stark, that’s kind of the point. One event set inexplicable changes in motion. It was not the death of the first King, Robert Baratheon. No, it was the unjust beheading of Stark. Additionally, Ned Stark was not the “focus” of the story; he may have been the only sympathetic character in a world full of villains – but he was not the main character. I’m not even sure there is a main character, because this is an ensemble show. The books are the same way; they’re told from different perspectives, resulting in a unique plot construct. The show mimics this structure, which is why it hops around, sharing focus.

Genzlinger goes on to posit that “a seemingly endless number of would-be rulers and the usual sex” doesn’t “give the viewer much to latch onto.” First of all, there are a distinct number of would-be rulers, if you pay attention. No one is entertaining the idea of the stable boy making a grab for the throne. There is no royal rumble. Slowly, we are introduced a handful of people who would rule – each has an actual claim to the throne, although I will forever root for Daeneyrs Targaryen. But that’s just me. What gives the viewers something to latch onto is the intrigue, the political maneuvering, and the individual struggles of the characters. Dare I say, that like any other shows, it’s the characters that people care about, that people pay attention to.

Robb, for instance, with the giant direwolf – has Jamie Lannister held captive. He is now King of the North, which is a title that hasn’t been in existence for a long time. He is trying to avenge his father’s death. To me, that storyline alone is enough to pique a viewer’s interest – or has familial vengeance gone out of style? (See, Inigo Montoya; the Godfather; and even ABC’s Revenge.)

If the series were to focus on a single character, it would lose a great deal of its momentum. Additionally, it would barely be a shadow of its self; changing the structure would effectively change the story – and why on earth would anyone want to monkey with a good thing? Forget the wildly popular books. The series itself did remarkably well last year, and the audience followed it perfectly well. Have we all lost IQ points in the interim? I think not.

At one point, Genzlinger makes the assertion that, “[s]ome people love this kind of stuff, of course, and presumably those addicted to the George R. R. Martin books on which the series is based will immerse themselves in Season 2, just as they did in Season 1,” which make me apoplectic. Using the phrase “some people” is dismissive, condescending, and fairly isolating. Clearly, the reviewer is not “some people,” thus elevating his intellectual status above those who might actual enjoy the series – or, worse yet – the books! However, the assumption that those addicted to the Martin series (addicted? Really? Can I snort books, now?) are the only ones who enjoyed season one, and who will enjoy season 2 – that is painfully inaccurate. I, for one, hadn’t read ANY of the books, until after the first season was over. It was the show that introduced me to the novels, but I had no trouble “immersing” myself in the series. I know several people who never read the books, but LOVE the series.

Now, let’s return to the character of Joffrey, who the author refers to as a sadist, only to admonish that “[i]f you find yourself looking forward to Joffrey’s scenes, there’s something wrong with you.” *sigh* That, sir, is the POINT. You’re not SUPPOSED to like him. He’s a villain. He’s shitweasel. (Thanks for the word, Bill.) He isn’t likeable. He’s a terrible little monster with power. Cringing when he appears onscreen is the point. Joffrey isn’t a nice character, but neither was the Master on Buffy the Vampire Slayer – or the First, for that matter. Villains are meant to make the audience cringe, otherwise they wouldn’t be villains. At least, not very effective ones.

In a lovely move of insult and reader-alienation, Genzlinger goes on to verbally shank the viewers of GoT, stating that the show needs to “expand its fan base beyond Dungeons & Dragons types.” How in the seven hells do we draw a comparison between GoT and D&D?!?! What does that even mean? Is the author referring to geeks? Who, in case he hasn’t noticed, are fairly legion and awesome. I consider myself a geek, folks, but I won’t eat glass or live chickens. There is no basis for that contention, either, unless the author somehow conducted a random sampling of the show’s audience. You don’t have be a die-hard dice roller to appreciate the show. That’s like saying only physicists watch The Big Bang Theory. It is both insulting and nonsensical.

In Genzlinger’s opinion, the series is off-track, and it merely focuses on “a bunch of petty pretenders jockeying for a throne.” Yes, people are vying for power. Robert’s two brothers want to claim the throne. So does Daeneyrs, the heir of the Mad King, who Robert dethroned. But the play isn’t necessarily the thing, darling. Each character has hopes, struggles, and conflicts. Some are internal, some are external and as easily discerned as a sword at the throat. It’s the varied characters and desires that keep the series interesting. I would posit that it’s not off-track, merely that Genzlinger doesn’t appreciate the journey of the show – or the way it’s told. But as I said before, if it were told differently, it would be a different story entirely.

One ancillary point: Peter Dinklage. The reviewer mentions that he now gets top billing “by default,” but fails to explain why he supposes that. He then goes on to mention that Dinklage received an Emmy, despite his role being minor. Here’s the thing, love: it’s not the size of the part that matters; it’s how you play the character that counts. That brief quip seems to imply that the author doesn’t believe Dinklage should’ve gotten the Emmy, which is a) irrelevant and b) if true, inflammatory and obnoxious. Unless, sir, you are part of the Academy, that’s really not your call. Or mine. I only know when I like someone in a role, because I am a layman. You are, too. Unless you have an Emmy in your pocket.

Perhaps, next year, the New York Times might select a reviewer who enjoys the fantasy genre. If all else fails, I’ll do it. I promise not to insult your readers or the show’s audience, which is more than I can for Neil Genzlinger.