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In the Flesh: House of the Dragon S1E03: 'Second of His Name'
🕑 Added 2022-09-05 05:10:30 +0000 UTCI’ve seen a great deal of ink spilled over House of the Dragon as some sort of girl power parable about men’s resistance to subservience to women, but to dicker over who can and cannot hold the throne, and when, and for what reason, is to miss the central thrust of all George R. R. Martin’s work. The game is the problem, not just the patriarchy entwined with it. No commoner’s ills would be solved by Rhaenrya’s ascension to the throne any more than the hapless knight of House Velaryon crucified and left to die by the Crabfeeder is saved by Prince Daemon’s triumphant entrance on dragonback. When you get crushed to death in an instant by the scaly talon of a ten-ton fire-breathing monstrosity, the gender of its rider is a remote consideration. It’s easy, watching Rhaenyra lock horns with her ailing father King Viserys, to root for the dykey teenager trying to buck tradition over her weak-willed people pleaser of a parent, but the context of their struggle renders all such interpersonal conflict fundamentally deadly to the world around them. Those are real people Caraxes and Seasmoke turn into screaming human torches, a fact in which the opening sequence rubs our faces.
The episode’s battle sequences are rip-roaring fare as well, combining the horror imagery around which events with the Crabfeeder (Daniel Scott-Smith) have revolved with breakneck kinetic action and chaotic choreography. Caraxes emerging from the dark like a demonic shadow to rain fire on Triarchy soldiers. A desperate, spiteful Prince Daemon risking his skin by faking a surrender for a shot at the Crabfeeder himself in light of the imminent arrival of reinforcements from King’s Landing. Lord Corlys Velaryon in his gorgeously engraved and filigreed armor hacking his way through the Triarchy’s ranks with a massive war ax. It’s a nightmare, but an exciting one, and the richness of it more than makes up for a few instances of shaky CGI and awkward framing. Excellent, too, are Paddy Considine and Milly Alcock’s scenes together, the genuine hurt, love, and frustration they project cutting through what might otherwise feel like repetitive material about the succession in light of the King’s new male heir, two-year-old Aegon. Rhys Ifans remains disturbing as ambitious Hand of the King Otto Hightower, and his cruel exploitation of his daughter the queen provides an ugly mirror for Viserys and Rhaenyra’s inability to reconcile. Conformity looks no prettier than the strife that may tip the Seven Kingdoms into all-out war.
‘The Second of His Name’ dwells at length on the idea of feelings of destiny. Viserys’s would-be prophetic dream about Aegon’s ascent to the throne, the coveted augury of the white stag sought out for Aegon’s name day but appearing instead to the wayward Rhaenyra, Daemon’s lunatic risk-taking in service to his reputation and claim to the throne — it all revolves around an idea so heavy, so charged and freighted with blood, that it deforms the acts and personality of anyone who holds it. The idea is this: I am meant to rule. House of the Dragon’s story exists as a sort of chew toy fought over by different members of the idle rich, and it doesn’t matter if you stumble drunkenly to a half-hearted victory over an animal held down by game wardens or charge heroically into the teeth of an enemy army, because at the end of the day that single idea eclipses anything else you might do, think, or say. Whoever’s riding the dragon, it crushes you just the same.
Comments
James Williams
I'd read that same festoonery of gender critiques of HotD - none of which I think hold water because we've not seen the whole series yet. Y'know what I hadn't had, 'til now? A class conscious analysis of the big epic knights-in-the-mud sprawl and how little the throne means to the people who bleed for it. This is what I pay my Patreon for! All the best, J.
Michael
one of my favorite things about the GoT era was reading your reviews/posts, really glad you've continued to write about HotD.
