*SPOILER WARNING*
If you watched the weekly releases of season two of “House of the Dragon” on HBO Max this past summer, then you’re probably aware of the online discussions surrounding it — and with it, very valid criticism of its slug-paced plot.
My “Game of Thrones” journey actually began with “House of the Dragon,” a show I picked up on a long flight back from my summer study abroad program. The magic of the first season lies in its complex characters and their struggles to navigate their spot in life. As soon as I got home, I binge-watched the first six seasons of “Game of Thrones,” which is now one of my favorite shows of all time.
Needless to say, I was excited when “House of the Dragon” was announced for a second season. Unfortunately, like many other fans, its execution left me wanting more. Aside from its abysmal color editing that rendered the screen so dark it was almost impossible to see anything, the plot and characters lost their own color too, derailing into a bland and repetitive sludge.
“House of the Dragon” Overview
For those new to the franchise, here’s a basic summary of the plot: Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the so-called Realm’s Delight, is the sole heir and daughter to her father King Viserys. Viserys marries Rhaenyra’s childhood best friend Alicent Hightower, with whom he has three children: two sons, Aegon and Aemond, and a daughter, Helaena. Despite having two sons with Alicent, as well as a younger brother, Daemon, King Viserys continues to declare Rhaenyra his successor. Upon Viserys’ death, however, the Hightowers contest Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne, putting Aegon in his rightful place. A civil war erupts as both sides vie for the crown, leaving only loss and destruction in its wake.
Taking place approximately 200 years after “House of the Dragon,” “Game of Thrones” expands the focus to multiple families: Robert Baratheon, the king of the Seven Kingdoms, overthrows the Targaryen dynasty, which had become corrupt under the Mad King. He marries Cersei Lannister, who has three children with her brother, Jaime, despite telling the world they are Baratheon’s children. Baratheon’s close friend, Ned Stark, discovers the truth of Cersei’s deception shortly after his death and confronts the Lannisters, a decision that costs him his head. The remaining Baratheon brothers, the Lannisters, the Tyrells and the Targaryens set their sights on the Iron Throne while the Starks seek vengeance for the loss of the head of their house.
“Game of Thrones” versus “House of the Dragon”
It’s easiest to draw comparisons between where “Game of Thrones” thrived and where “House of the Dragon” fell short. The latter lacks the character complexity that made the former so successful. “Game of Thrones” developed characters and their relationships with others over the course of several seasons. It followed Ned Stark from the pilot episode to his death at the end of Season 1 and continued the Stark storyline with his son, Robb Stark, in the following season. Arya Stark and her relationship with Sandor Clegane, famously known as “The Hound,” on her journey to Braavos grew slowly over the course of three seasons. Daenerys Targaryen builds her army every season, gaining the faith of all her subjects. Each character serves a purpose in propelling the plot, even if they’re on entirely opposite ends of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. More importantly, though, they each express their individual ambitions and strengths, flaws and all.
“House of the Dragon,” on the other hand, struggles to move on from its season one roots. That is, it continues to focus almost exclusively on characters already introduced in the previous season, but with few developments, if any, in their stories. It seems every episode dedicated a third of its run time to Rhaenyra’s inaction and the stagnation of her council, Alicent and her dismay at losing her former power as queen and Daemon’s hallucinations as he began to question his decision to defy Rhaenyra in favor of wearing the crown himself. While these may be important plot points, the audience hardly needs a weekly regurgitation of the same scene in an eight-episode season.
As for the younger generations, their scenes are scattered across episodes for only a few minutes at a time. The prophetic Helaena, daughter of Alicent, ought to warn her brothers Aegon and Aemond about the horrific future to come as a seer of the future. Rhaena, step-daughter to Rhaenyra, ought to struggle to overcome her bitterness over not having a dragon to call her own in a family of dragonriders, insistent on proving her worth. And the betrothed Jacaerys and Baela, bastard son and step-daughter to Rhaenyra, should grow closer in a time of grief and conflict.
Although perhaps unintentional, Aegon and Aemond are the most compelling characters this season. Both were made to be hated, but somehow captured the sympathy of the audience. Their anger stems from a lack of love from their mother: Aegon, forced onto the throne against his wishes and then ridiculed for his incompetence, despite his best efforts, receives a harsh dose of reality when he goes to his mother for emotional support. Aemond, the discarded second son, becomes power hungry in his pursuit to prove himself more worthy than Aegon.
Most disappointing is “House of the Dragon’s” portrayal of women. “Game of Thrones” is far from a symbol of feminism, but its female characters were always complex, human and flawed. In an attempt to advocate for feminism in “House of the Dragon,” the writers accomplish the exact opposite by stripping all women of any ambition or negative character traits, defining strength only in terms of the physical. Rhaenyra laments not having learned to fight with a sword as a child, repeating several times that she ought to have been born a man. Alicent realizes with every episode that her status as a woman renders her incapable of wielding any official political power.
“Game of Thrones” displays strength in different ways, each equally valid. There’s the physical — Arya Stark is a small child who becomes an undefeatable warrior by the end of the show, and Brienne of Tarth is a child bullied for being “unfeminine” but grows up to be a respectable knight despite it. Then there’s the emotional — Sansa Stark is a young, idealistic girl who learns to be politically savvy, at first to quell her betrothed King Joffrey Baratheon’s rage, and then simply to survive and carry on the Stark legacy. Daenerys Targaryen has a similar start as a scared girl sold off into marriage by her own brother, who later earns her title as the “Breaker of Chains” and rallies thousands to her cause as a ruler deserving of the Iron Throne.
Cersei Lannister is actually one of my favorite characters in the entire “Game of Thrones” franchise. Although she might be conniving, cruel and calculated, she is also sympathetic in her sincere (though misguided) attempt to protect her children. Her love for them is an undeniably constant and unbreakable force. Take, for example, the scene of her sitting in the throne room with her youngest child, Tommen, in her lap, a vial of poison inches from his lips as a war wages outside the castle walls. Or that of her conversation with her husband Robert Baratheon, one almost reflective of Sansa. Cersei was excited about the prospect of falling in love with her betrothed, although the reality of a political marriage left her bitter and emotionally hardened. Her hopeless resistance against her father Tywin, who insists she remarry and produce more heirs per her “duties” as a woman, is heartbreaking. In his eyes, and in the eyes of all of Westeros, she is not a human being, only a woman.
By contrast, “House of the Dragon” seems to revert all of the development of its female characters from season one. Alicent, who directly challenged Rhaenyra by wearing the colors of her house and forcing Aegon on the throne, now seeks to repair their friendship 20 years too late. With no ambition for power in her own right, she becomes a weak, forgettable character who serves little purpose to the plot. For all that the writers attempt to make her sympathetic, the opposite occurs with each passing episode. In the season finale, for instance, she agrees to sacrifice her own son to realign herself with Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra, too, is forbidden from committing any wrongdoing. She takes no vengeance for the death of her second son, nor the accusation that she murdered Aegon’s son and willingly ignores Daemon’s betrayal and abandonment. Instead, she argues with Jacaerys and her council on the daily, allowing herself to trust only the spy Mysaria.
In addition, the means of communication between the characters is bizarre. Twin knights, Aryk and Eryk, are on enemy sides; one disguises himself as the other, sneaks into Rhaenyra’s castle and then brawls his brother to the death. The show makes no mention of them again, raising the question of what the point of their story was. Rhaenyra disguises herself as a septa (the “Game of Thrones” version of a nun) and confronts Alicent in prayer; Alicent boards a ship just a few episodes later, demanding to speak to Rhaenyra in her castle in the dead of night. It is difficult to take the gravity of the war seriously when such significant political figures can so easily circumvent any security measures.
Action in the form of war and death is not necessary to keep audiences interested, but that does not mean the writers can simply stretch out the plot to the point where nothing happens — I presume because they’re trying to milk the franchise for all it’s worth.
A slow burn is good, but it still needs to burn.