I have maybe less than 24 hours before it’s passé to lament about Game of Thrones, with the airing of “The Last Watch” last night. It was a cool documentary that showed the mind-blowing amount of time, money and effort that went into filming the spectacle season 8, with a side of -oh hey they are still showing us things we don’t care to see, even in the documentary about the season that showed us things we didn’t care to see. Ahem, anyways. So yes, Game of Thrones is the most (overly) discussed television show of our time, and I am happy that husband talked me into opening my heart to the story a few years back.
I hate dragons and shit. Not my style. I recall the earliest days of the first season, when husband would excitedly watch alone in the living room adjacent to our bedroom and I’d yell at him from the bed to “TURN IT DOWN, GOD.” People being beheaded is super loud.
I begrudgingly picked up George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones my first or second week of spending summer on a southern Italian hillside- NO WIFI and my iPhone had bit the dust with no warning in the first days of our trip. It was meant to be. There was nothing to do but try not to drink all day in the café and finally, pick up a book. It took me a few chapters, but I got into it and quickly continued on to the second and third installments of the series. I made the decision to stop at book 4 because A) because of George’s 12-page descriptions of each feast and B) I was lazy and wanted to just start watching the show when it debuted again that fall. My obsession began.
I should also mention that my love for all-consuming theorized television began in 2005 with what is still my favorite show of all time, LOST. Not everyone understood it. Most people hated the series finale, but I loved it through the good times (season 3 finale,) and the bad (most everything in season 3 before the finale.) I believe it’s the show that launched this generation’s “wait- there is something more going on here, let’s talk about it all week” fanaticism. This is what I’m mourning most about the end of Game of Thrones: the way it really did bring people with nothing else in common together. Not to mention, sliding into a rabbit hole of fan theories about whether or not Varys was actually trying to poison Daenerys in the days before he was incinerated by Drogon is SO MUCH EASIER to do when the real world we currently live in is such a horrifying piece of garbage.
Let’s be different and not dissect how and why the writers chose to end the series the way they did. It was fine, SIGH noitwasnt. But all storylines aside, the reason people are disappointed is because the final season didn’t live up to the standards set for it- by ITSELF. For at least 5 or 6 seasons, Game of Thrones proved to be the most intriguing drama on television- enough to keep people eagerly anticipating its return for 1+ year, every year.
But whatever. In a few years, when we go to watch the entire series again for the fourth time (don’t look at me like that,) we will not feel the same anger and disappointment. All we will see is one of the greatest TV shows of all time. Farewell, my cultural juggernaut friend.