[rating=7.00] “The Gift”
While there were several pieces moving and one rather surprising twist at the end, it’s the world the show encompasses–particularly the early half focusing entirely on The North—that shows the severity of the conditions these characters live, and the consequences for those decisions made in such circumstances. As an episode, it largely works, as the storylines focused on continue to build on the years of backstory they’ve cultivated, save for some isolated moments that tend to go nowhere, in particular the two scenes in Dorne, which were so unfulfilling and ridiculous they’ll only be mentioned here.
“I hope you don’t need them.”
Jon Snow, along with an unchained Tormund Giantsbane, mount their horses to begin their journey north of The Wall to round up the rest of the Free Folk. While the Night’s Watch glares at him, deeply resenting this idea, seeing it as an affront to everything they’ve fought for over the centuries. Allisair, never one to mince his words, tells him so, calling it reckless and foolhardy. Only Samwell shows any indication of support by gifting Jon his bag of dragonglass for the journey.
Inside Castle Black, Maester Aemon lay dying, telling stories of his younger brother Aegon, who would come to be known as The Mad King. “Before (he was king), he was a jolly fellow, like this one,” says Aemon. Growing more delusional as he gets closer to death, he calls out for his brother in the night, before grabbing Samwell’s arm, who sits with him at his bedside.
While the death of one of the oldest living characters in Westeros isn’t shocking, in terms of plot development, it does feel shoehorned in for quicker convenience of Allisair’s inevitable mutiny. Even as they pass the lighting torch around, he tells Samwell bluntly “You’re losing all your friends, Tarly.” It would be a powerful moment, if not undercut by the absolutely clumsy overhead shot of Aemon in death, resting on his kindling, looking like it was photographed through a Viewmaster.
Of course, with Aemon gone and Allisair in charge, any sense of order begins to erode within the walls, as shown when Gilly is accosted by two Crows (a curious choice for a scene given last week’s epic blowback). Samwell steps in to try and stop it before being badly beaten, only to be saved by a convenient appearance of Ghost, Jon’s direwolf. Aside from the decidedly Stand By Me-esque lack of actual resolution here, it does make one wonder how Samwell was able to kill a White Walker in the first place.
“Do what he says or he’ll hurt you.”
Back at Winterfell, Sansa is in considerably worse shape than last week, bruised and battered while seemingly spending most of her time locked in her chamber. She desperately attempts to break Theon from his years of torture under Ramsay, reminding him of his name and his family’s legacy. It’s a noble attempt, though one that could’ve had a bit more weight besides Sansa reciting his name and titles. He did live with the Stark’s the majority of his life, after all.
She pleads him to take a candle and, as instructed, light it in the highest window of the Broken Tower, were Brienne remains stationed outside the castle in anticipation. As we watch Theon cross the courtyard, battered by heavy snow, the first true indication that winter is coming, he ascends the steps of the tower in what seems to be a moment of true nobility. Even a chance to redeem Theon’s deeply flawed and mangled character, at least to an extent.
However, in succinct Game of Thrones style, he’s met by Ramsay, completely eradicating any shred of hope. Even as Sansa begins to taunt Ramsay about his being a bastard and possibly losing his inheritance to Roose Bolton’s new child, complete with a weapon tucked in her sleeve, Ramsay simply replies by showing her the flayed body of the elderly woman who had first vowed to help her.
It’s strongly reminiscent of the moment near the first season’s conclusion when Joffrey walks her to see her father’s head on a spike. A reminder of the severity that Ramsay employs for his own means, and the consequences of those who defy him.
“Those aren’t just Stark words. They’re a fact.”
While it’s made evident that winter grows ever closer and more punishing within the walls of Winterfell, Stannis, as he marches to claim it on his way to King’s Landing, is dealing with massive fallout. Dying horses, deserting troops and low morale are eroding his army, along with his chances to overtake the Boltons who now control The North.
It’s a moment we’ve not seen since the brutal end to the War of the Five Kings as Stannis stands over his map, tossing aside pieces to account for the desertion of sell-swords. While Ser Davos offers his usual, sensible council, Melisandre offers her usual, completely batshit notion of a sacrifice. Specifically, Stannis’ daughter, because something-something king’s blood.
“Even slaves have a choice- death or slavery.”
The parallel stories in Slaver’s Bay finally begin to intertwine. Danaerys, still unhappy with the opening of the fighting pits, even to free men, is assured by Daario of its necessity. Her position as queen requiring her to attend, she looks on in an almost wincing and uncomfortable manner, which, like much of the fifth season, is grossly underwhelming and even contrary to certain characters.
Even more unexplainable is the sudden surge of wide-eyed enthusiasm as she sees Jorah, wearing a helmet to hide his appearance, storms into combat and easily besting the competition.
Suddenly, as he removes his helmet, she grimaces at the sight of the man who betrayed her, ordering him to be taken from her sight. He pleads with her, declaring he brought a gift to the woman he still seeks to serve as his queen, when at long last, she’s introduced to Tyrion Lannister.
To which the entire viewing public said “Finally!” in unison.
“The people always do the dirty work.”
Back at King’s Landing, Olenna speaks to the High Sparrow, demanding on the release of both her grandson and granddaughter, kept in the dungeon for their immoral acts thanks to a surge of religious fanaticism. She begins the conversation with her usual candid approach, threatening to cut off the import of crops from High Garden to King’s Landing.
High Sparrow, in his first scene where it wasn’t distracting to see Jonathan Pryce play the role, somehow leaves Olenna speechless after some rhetoric about how she’d never tilled a field, nor had anyone in her family.
Receiving a request to meet with Littlefinger, he walks about his now gutted brothel. “Together we murdered a king,” she tells him, as they speak frankly about their rapidly decreasing options to further scheme their way out of. It echoes what High Sparrow had said to her before parting earlier, as he referred to her as “the few,” while trailing off with a parting thought of “when the many stop fearing the few…,”
“I fear the faith has left reason behind.”
Cersei, after eliminating most of her opposition thanks to the religious judgment handed down by High Sparrow, is down to simply manipulating Tommen, who proclaims he’s ready to start a war over the imprisonment of Margaery. “We both know who the first casualty of that war would be,” she tells him, in Cersei’s trademark icy delivery.
She even goes to visit Margaery in the dungeon, bringing her leftovers as a way to further taunt her while feigning concern. “Lies come easily to you, everyone knows that,” Margaery tells her before exploding with rage.
Her smug satisfaction upon leaving, however, is met with a shocking turn of events, as she’s unable to put the genie back in the bottle. The High Sparrow begins by speaking to the stripping away of House Tyrell as a result in the upcoming trials of Loras and Margaery, before segueing into a rather candid accusation of Cersei and House Lannister, thanks to Lancel Lannister, now a devoted member of the faith.
It’s at long last a new plot development that plays with the same severity as those now relying on years of backstory. As Cersei, now the victim of her own insidious (and poorly thought through) plan is left to deal with the consequences. Before the door shuts, however, she offers the guard a bit of classic Cersei rhetoric. “Look at my face. It’s the last thing you’ll see before you die.”
