A TV series that always pays its debts

The HBO eagle landed, and hundreds of Harvard geeks flocked to the Science Center last Wednesday night at the irresistible promise of viewing the first episode of the third season of “Game of Thrones” a few days before the less fortunate greater public (Plus, once something becomes an official event, it’s totally condoned to skip studying). A few lucky attendees of the screening won hats and even an iPad; however, unlike the game of thrones itself, this was not a win-or-die scenario, and the other guests were able to sit unmolested as the barrage of violence, conspiracy, and sex began.

With a seemingly endless conveyor belt of characters that he kills off with industrial efficiency, George R.R. Martin—the author of the “A Song of Ice and Fire” series the show is adapted from—has indeed created a phenomenon as difficult to film as it is to predict. Most viewers come to the show without reading the novels and generally agree that the production stands well on its own merit; but how do the novels’ fans, a much smaller group, view the series as an adaptation? Whatever criticisms one might have for the quality of the series—either novels or television—the HBO adaptation has proved itself a highly effective conception of Westeros and its squabbling inhabitants.

The far-reaching maps and family hierarchies of Martin’s world are two of the most unique and fascinating features of his series—features that film would not be able to showcase, barred from providing due time and consideration. This level of detail involves sets, costumes, and an army of bit-part characters. Any film adaptation of the novels would stretch far beyond the serialization of “Harry Potter” and the four-hour director’s cuts of the “Lord of the Rings.” The episodic structure of the TV series not only allows indefinite extension of the storyline (and revenues), but also it allows time to dwell on the intricacies of culture and backdrop that are inherent in Martin’s work.

That said, some important parts of the novels are missing. The HBO series spends less time on the cliffhangers and hints that Martin strews so lovingly throughout his narrative. Who is Jon Snow’s mother? What is Varys’s agenda? Is there any way to pass the time in Westeros beyond murder and sex? “Game of Thrones” holds an interesting place in television mostly in that the media treats as suspense while the books have been out for almost two decades; simply, how does an adaptation like this create tension? Those who watch the series and never read the books are spoon-fed information in pre-determined packages, and the question becomes “what will happen next?” rather than “here’s what I think will happen next. How about you?” After all, once you have come to terms with the knowledge that your favorite character is unlikely to live out the novel, let alone the saga, all you can do is attempt to prophesy the manner of their imminent—and probably gruesome—doom. What with Martin’s largely one-dimensional characters, a substantial proportion of what makes the writing so fun is coming up with potential plotlines and conspiracy theories. Unfortunately, since the TV series is so far behind the published books—although catching up quickly—it is not nearly as much of a challenge to predict what has already been written.

Martin’s world is peopled with fairly simple characters, the good, the far more populous bad, and the ugly. There are more complicated individuals—some of them genuinely original and compelling, like Tyrion Lannister—but by and large, with the rate they are introduced and summarily executed, there is little time for character development. As a result the actors of the HBO series bring consistently fresh shades of quality, allowing the TV series to take on a life of its own, independent of the novels. There are some fantastic performances, such as those of Jack Gleeson as the infuriatingly vicious Joffrey, Emilia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen, and, of course, Peter Dinklage as Tyrion. While the nature of an adaptation means that those who met the characters as written fiction will have their internal image challenged by a new idea, it is hard to deny that the spirit of these primary characters has been artfully captured both by the actors and by the script they are given.

And yet, even without knowledge of the books necessarily, a hall full of people exhaled in shock as the credits began to roll across the screen at the Wednesday showing. In an audience of fans—of both the novels and the program—it would be hard to find a person left unenthused by the next installment of the saga.