House of the Dragon, the newly minted prequel to the watercooler-redefining Games of Thrones, is a show that has a considerable amount going for it, replete as it is with political intrigue, the unsentimental viciousness of life at the upper echelons of society, stunningly intriguing characters and a slowly unspooling story that augurs badly for just about everyone involved, no matter what they might think of their chances.
But what this saga of the Targaryen dynasty at the height of their Iron Throne-occupying really has going for it is some startlingly slick but insightful meaningful dialogue, all of it delivered by characters who can do the golden words justice, and every word an excoriatingly intense deep gaze into the stark realities of the human experience.
At least at it applies to those jockeying for power in Westeros during a time of peace and prosperity when dragons are the key to power remaining in the hand of one very white-haired family which is sagely aware that the real threat to its rule is not outside forces but those from within its own camp.
Jaehaerys called the Great Council to prevent a war being fought over his succession. For he knew the cold truth. The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself. (Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen)
But while the pithily on point observation by the first king of the Targaryen dynasty, Jaehaerys, who oversaw the sweeping acquisition of power by the family as they fled the ruins of their storied homeland of Valyria which fell to its ruin under their own hand – “The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They’re a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don’t mind our own histories, it will do the same to us.” – gets right to the heart of the matter, that power can be both a blessing and a curse, House of the Dragon really nails its observational colours to the mast when it observes the folllwing:
The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power. (Otto Hightower)
Otto’s response is a knowing riposte to the idea that not everybody yearns for power of the absolute kind provided by the Iron Throne, an idea quickly put to the sword in these first three episodes where it seems everyone, to some extent or another is jockeying to grab that power and hold it by whatever means necessary.
As the show opens with all the fantastical pomp and ceremony we have come to expect from George R. R. Martin’s saga of largely Anglo-Celtic lust and power, King King Viserys I Targaryen (Paddy Considine) is on the throne, named by the Council of Lords to succeed the sadly now heir-free Jaehaerys as king in misogynistic preference to Princess Rhaenys Targaryen (Eve Best) who is cruelly taunted, behind her back, and sometimes to her impressively impassive face as the “Queen Who Never Was”.
While Viserys is a good and decent man, the firstborn of the king’s King Jaehaerys’ second son Prince Baelon Targaryen and his sister-wife Princess Alyssa Targaryen, and has a valid claim to the throne, Rhaenys is the daughter of the king’s now-deceased heir apparent, Aemon Targaryen – being the children of the prevailing ruler is not, it seems, any guard against premature death and likely encourages it – and in any reasonably enlightened world, which Westeros largely is not, would walk straight into the role of ruler of the known world.
But Westeros is a world driven by what the gods and men want (“Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne”, notes Princess Rhaenys Velaryon at one soberly introspective point) and surprise, surprise, it is not having a woman on the throne, something which also fouls up Viserys’s daughter Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen (adlt played by Emma D’Arcy as an adult, teenager by Milly Alcock when she is named as heir after some spiler-heavy events befall the current king and he decides to defy convention by naming his daughter as his successor.
This is where House of the Dragon becomes winningly thoughtful.
While the first three episodes offer up epic sea battles, dragons swooping in on multiple occasions to vanquish enemies through some flammable vapourisation, and all the bloody pomp and pageantry you could ask for – if you still hung onto the romantic idea that medieval life was all banquets and quiet walks through castle grounds, then let House of the Dragon happily rub your face in the brutal reality of it all – what it does most of all, and in ways that make Game of Thrones look like a meditation on the human condition-free zone (it wasn’t and isn’t but its prequel is a whole other level above when it comes to musing on people and power) is drive home how terrifyingly destructive power can be.
There are those like Viserys and his daughter Rhaenyra who exercise power with care and compassion and an eye on what is good for the realm – even if some of the choices are odious or distinctly uncomfortable – but then are those like the current king’s brother Prince Daemon Targaryen (Matt Smith who blatantly redefines brooding resentment) who believe they deserve to be the heir and will do everything to get it, sometimes brilliantly well and sometimes not.
Time and again, and in ways epically big and meditatively small, House of the Dragon takes us back to what power means, how easy it can be to get it, how hard it can be to hang onto it and wield it well, and how having a mighty advantage like owning ten dragons, with more on the way, doesn’t always guarantee you will get your way.
It can help, of course, as Rhaenyra demonstrates superbly well in a piece of impulsive brute strength politicking in one epic scene when she rides in on her dragon mount Syrax, whose egg was placed in her cradle at birth bonding them for life, but it can also fail to yield the expected results, something that Daemon demonstrates on more than one occasion.
The dragons are an impressive bunch, and not a zombified one among them thank god – though reference is made at one point to the coming of winter with all its attendant dangers and violent shaking of the political status quo – but even they can force power to act in the way you want it to.
Even when you have it, it is possible to exercise it in way that maddeningly pleases some while pissing off others – “I am forever doomed to anger one person in the pleasing of another”, rues King Viserys Targaryen in a characteristic moment of truth-telling – and there are forever people trying to take it from you.
It is this potent, eternal struggle that powers the first three episodes of House of the Dragon, and will likely do so through whatever number of seasons are granted to it, and while its hardly a novel thematic idea in the world of Games of Thrones, and indeed through the copious literature of people generally, it is used to good and exacting effect in this lavishly produced, epically-realised but emotionally nuanced show which gears up rather nicely in the first third of its opening season to really explore what power means and how it can make or break you and how it will always shape the world around us for better or worse.
House of the Dragon is currently screening on HBO and in Australia on Binge.