Game of Thrones, Season 6, Episode 60: Winds of Winter, or The Starks are Always Right Eventually

Our finale episode of HBO’s Game of Thrones begins with a granite-faced Cersei surveying the city, looking like Bruce Lee sizing up an opponent he considers beneath him. And Tommen, Marge and the HS are getting prettied up, and the Great Sept starts ushering in gawkers. It’s Kangaroo Court time.

Slow Loras is looking Theon-grade fucked up, and Scarhead Lancel apparently thinks that isn’t bad enough. You’re a charmer, Lance.

Pycelle is a geriatric fuckboy who doesn’t pay his sex workers. I don’t know what I thought was up with the wee child at first, but it looks like she’s one of Q’s spider babies.

Loras is in fine voice as he confesses to everything but the Lindbergh kidnapping. They broke Loras, and broke him good. House Tyrell is done, and it’s time for Lancel the Apache to carve his masterpiece.

This is a screwjob, apparently. The HS promised Marge that Lolo was free to go after Cersei’s trial. I suppose she should have asked a few more questions, but too late now.

And Lancel’s being led on a merry chase by another of Q’s spider babies. Go ahead, Lance. Follow the kid into the sunless catacombs beneath the Great Sept.

Well, looks like Pycelle’s girl isn’t getting paid, but them urchins are gonna get special candy. Great stabbing, dears. Good job!

Does Lancel get some? He gets some, right between the vertebrae. Spider Boy takes a minute to check his work, finds it adequate, and is off to collect his sweeties. Lance, having nothing else to do, decides to have a crawl around to see what’s in those dusty barrels. Is it Reanimator serum? Glowstick goo?

Marge, it should be said, never takes her head out of the game. Which is why she’s the one who smells a rat and calls for an evacuation. The HS has let all this winning go to his head, and can’t imagine that Cersei has any moves left. And like the fine religious police they are, the Scarheads are barring the exits. How wonderfully predictable.

Down in the catacombs, Lancel doesn’t have the wind to blow out three candles, and that means we’re serving Mad King Surprise up in this bitch. Green Lantern nuke blast and that’s it for House Tyrell, Lance and the Scarheads, Ser Kevan Lannister, the Great Sept of Baelor and the surrounding five blocks, and the High Sparrow and his smirking vision of the future. Deus Ex Wildfire.

Cersei, resplendent in her wicked queen couture, will drink to that.

And just as a bit of lagniappe, Cersei’s gonna waterboard Septa Ratchet with a jug of Dornish. And monologue at her a bit. And feed her to the Green Mountain. Damn, Cersei. You are definitely done fucking around.

Tommen, who never wanted to be king, removes his crown. And there goes the last of House Baratheon, face down on the pavement.

Back at the Twins, the odious and petulant Walder Frey is drinking to the health of his alliance with the Lannisters, which has worked out just fine. And Bronn is enjoying the privilege of calling Ser Jaime Lannister a cunt and tweaking him about fucking his sister.

Walder is feeling some big nuts right now, and tries out his routine on Jaime, who is clearly sick of the sight of Freys. Walder takes one liberty too many, and Jaime burns him like Drogon with a lamb. Getting the last word in on a braying jackass like Lord Frey must feel good.

Back at the Capitol, Cersei and Qyburn were having such a good day, all the way up til Tommen left his tower all Bran-style. I had a horrible fear that Tommen was just mostly dead, meaning Q had another volunteer for his green & silent treatment, but no. Note that in that litany of family, Cersei doesn’t mention his father, although Fat Bob Baratheon is certainly part of the pillar of ash and smoke rising about the former sept.

Meanwhile down south, Fat Sam, Gilly, and Cute Sam have reached the Citadel, or at least a lovely vantage point on it. What we are being shown here is the white ravens leaving the tower, which will be important later.

The Citadel is clearly an entrenched and constipated bureaucracy from hell, but seriously: Fat Sam Tarly has ascended to the highest heaven. The splendor of the library is one of the best CGI reveals yet.

Up at Winterfell, Dead Snow is grousing about his childhood, and Davos is here for some answers. Mel looks nauseated and ashamed, but does not lie or dissemble. She knows what she did and why, and she knows that she has nothing for a defense. (Besides that it was god’s will, and her parents signed off, and you need my help.) In the end, Mel gets banished and clearly feels she got off light.

As she rides off, Sansa and Snow have a little heart to heart that doesn’t really address what a hopeless clusterfuck the Battle of the Bastards was, but does touch on the lack of communication between the pair of them. The Stark words need updating, since Winter is Here. May I suggest something like Don’t Trust Littlefinger?

Deep down in Dorne, Lady O is throwing massive shade at the Smokin’ Hot Bastards. And they take it, because they probably respect her anger, and also because the Tyrells have a navy. Which explains why Varys is here.

Back in Mereen, Daario the Sleaze is getting dumped, and being given stewardship over the city as a booby prize. Thanks a pantload, Dany. But Daario sees the logic behind the strategy, which he correctly traces back to Tyrion.

Tyrion, for his part, tries for consolation (fail), a pep talk (fail), and sympathy (fail). In the end, he manages a sincere declaration of faith, and is rewarded with a brooch. Being Dany’s Hand can’t possibly be a worse gig than being Joff’s.

And since this is a housecleaning ep, we are treated to Arry’s vengeance on the repellent Walder Frey and his garbage sons. This hearkens back to the tale of the Rat King, who also murdered guests under his protection, and also got his in pastry form. Arry enjoyed this to an unseemly degree, and she wasn’t alone.

In the Godswood at Winterfell, Scratchy the Pimp tries out his rap on Sansa, who brushes him off with a modicum of disgust. He takes it coolly, and as a parting shot tries to drive a wedge between Sansa and Jon.

Is it me, or does Scratchy look like he thinks he’s being watched? Don’t worry, old chum, it’s just a face in a tree.

Which leads us to Bran and Meera getting dumped in the snow by Blue Benjen, who can’t pass through the the invisible fence. And I guess he needs that horse more than the paraplegic and the girl who lost the sled. With nothing else to do, Bran jacks into the tree network and goes spying on his dad at the Tower of Joy.

And we are given everything but a billboard declaring that Dead Snow is a Targaryen as well as a Stark. So you can stop worrying you’ll regret that R+L=J tattoo.

Back at Winterfell, we have another all-hands meeting, and Lord Always a Jerk from the Vale is being a fat fucking racist and undermining Dead Snow, as is Lord Cerwyn, who wants to go home before it gets cold. Dead Snow plays the Ice Zombie card a little early and is losing the crowd. The Lady Mormont steps up, reads half the room to filth and elevates Dead Snow to King in the North.

It’s a bold fucking move, and it WORKS. Knees are bent, swords are pledged, and oh, the cheering. All we’ve got for a downside to all this is Scratchy and Sansa sharing a meaningful glance as the room ignores Sansa completely.

God this is a long ep. Jaime left for one fucking siege, which he knocked out in record time, and all he asks is that there’s no pillar of smoke and ash obscuring half the city when he rides home. Apparently that’s just too much to hope for. And he’s arrived just in time to see Cersei settle her ass on the Iron Throne. The first scene of the next season is certainly going to be Jaime and Cersei just exchanging stink-eye in dead silence for ten minutes.

Our last scene of the season? No cliffhangers here. Just a quick rundown of who is sailing on to Westeros. Theon and Yara? Check. Grey and the Unsullied? Check. The SuperKhalasar and their nags? Check. And on the flagship, we have Dany, Missandei, Tyrion, and Varys, which means the Tyrells and their considerable fleet are in the mix. Anything else? Three, count ‘em, three huge dragons in full flight.

Enjoy the view from that throne while you can, Cersei. See you next season.


Posted by on June 26, 2016. Filed under Headline, Popcorn. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry

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