Boromir Stark of Winterfell |
As I understand it, fantasy mavens afford Martin's work a great deal of respect and have done so for years and years. Like The Lord of the Rings before it, A Game of Thrones recently exploded into the popular consciousness by way of a screen adaptation--an HBO series rather than film, in this case.
A Game of Thrones strikes me as something of an odd choice for such a high-stakes wager on the part of HBO's executives. Not because of the weakness of the source material, mind. Martin's books are brilliant page-turners set in a vivid, distinctive alternate reality. They're intensely character-driven, but don't depend so much on inner life that they seem impossible to transliterate into a cinematic format.
Rather, A Game of Thrones seems like a strange bet because of how relentlessly bleak it is. Without spoiling anything for anyone who hasn't read it yet, the first book--which in turn is retold by the HBO series's first season--violently subverts the traditional fantasy/fairy-tale story arc near its end. And A Clash of Kings sees the situation in the realm of Westeros decline precipitously. As I understand it from those who are caught up with the four books published to date, A Song of Ice And Fire is an exercise in watching the worst possible thing happen at every turn.
But perhaps this relentless pessimism isn't so out of place in modern TV. Some of the most acclaimed shows of recent years (The Wire, Breaking Bad, House) examine broken systems and broken people. Many of my favorite comedies (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Arrested Development, South Park) depend heavily on schadenfreude and parody. And football, which grows more similar to gladiatorial combat every year, is the most popular sport in America.
We've come a long way since Leave It to Beaver.
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