Season Six
Jon’s True Parentage
“Promise me.”
If you read the books, or paid attention to the lore, or delved a little too greedily into theory videos (I was guilty of that last one) this scene might not have been the bombshell it was meant to be. But it’s still lovely, and a genuine surprise to many, and a necessary reveal played very well. It won’t be until next season that the full facts of Jon’s parentage are revealed, but this scene (with a dead-on young Sean Bean actor) confirms what, in retrospect, should have been obvious — dutiful, faithful, fatally honor-bound Ned Stark did not have a fling with a nameless woman while he was away from home. His beloved sister died in childbirth and he dutifully, faithfully, and honorably kept his promise to her and protected her baby by hiding its true parentage from everyone, even his wife, at enormous cost to himself. Even if you saw it coming, it’s a beautiful explanation that, when you think about it, is the only thing one makes any sense.
Jon Leaves the Night’s Watch
“My watch is ended.”
Jon is done with everything, but not so done as to forget Ned’s wisdom: The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. And so he faces the execution of his conspirators head on. (As does, to his immense credit, Alliser Thorne). It’s a bleak, dismal, honor-bound affair — one that fits well with Jon’s idea of what the Night’s Watch should be. And it is, blessedly, the scene that finally gets Jon moving south. Jon’s always had a shaky relationship with oaths — tormented by the idea of breaking them but willing to let them slide sometimes — but he’s finally found a loophole he seems willing to work with. He only had to stay at the Wall until his death. What he does after that is his business.
Tommen’s Suicide
“I’m very sorry, Your Grace.”
There are several monumental scenes surrounding the destruction of the Sept of Baelor. But the one that’s the most pivotal, and the most quietly devastating, is Tommen’s wordless, unflinching, deliberate suicide. The loss of so many people he holds dear, (and under his reign, no less — the fact that he takes off his crown first is gutting) is too much for a sweet, earnest child to bear. And Cersei’s scenes before and after his are a perfect dichotomy — one triumphant and vindicated, the other hollow and despairing, as she realizes her greatest attempt to keep her family safe has driven her last child to his death. The ramifications surrounding Tommen’s suicide are enormous, but the scene in its own right is incredibly powerful — a quiet, devastating moment of Tommen’s first and final act of self-determination.
Battle of the Bastards
On a purely personal note, I was on vacation with my family when this episode aired, and I watched it on my laptop, borrowing the local library’s wifi, on a sunny morning surrounded by happy children signing up for a summer reading program. I like to think that’s how Benioff and Weiss intended it to be seen. On a less personal note, this “scene,” which I’m counting as most of the episode, is stunning. The chaos of war is immediate and terrifying, both because of and in spite of the minutely orchestrated choreography. It’s attention to detail that’s so good you stop seeing it. But the real horror comes, of course, with the slow closing in of the Bolton army’s encirclement. War scenes, especially good ones, can inspire a lot of emotions. But the clutching, claustrophobic panic as the ring tightens and Jon is nearly buried alive in bodies is something totally new and upsetting on a deep, primal level. I love it.
Hold the Door
“Hodor.”
Is this it? Is this the most moving death scene in Game of Thrones history? I think it might be. With the selfless sacrifice of one of the only show’s only purely good characters, an explanation to a years-long mystery no one thought to examine too closely, and a time travel device that’s just simple and unconvoluted enough to be believable and satisfying, this scene has it all. I’ve been watching this show in real time since the beginning, and only twice have I spent the morning after an episode really dwelling on what I’d seen the night before. This is one of those times, and it was the more profound one, because the experience left me not just with grief, but with immense respect for the writing. Sometimes Game of Thrones oversimplifies. Sometimes it overcomplicates. This time it got it just right.
Related Topics: Game of Thrones
