So, some of you have been asking me to put up my impressions of the show now that I've watched the first two episodes. Seeing, after all, as I've been its cheerleader on this here blog now for going on two years. And to that I say: well, I
could do the standard boring review . . . by which I'd be forced to think of something witty and erudite to dazzle my readers with.
But then I thought -- nah! I'm too lazy for all that. Instead, I thought I'd try something different. What I'm going to give you is my gut reactions "live" as each scene plays out. So, in other words, this is going to be a written blow-by-blow account as the episode is playing out on my tv screen. You'll get to hear my unadulterated thoughts on the plot, dialog, and acting of the show exactly as it first enters into my skull.
Yes it's going to be THAT visceral, folks!
Or, in actuality, it'll just be plain and straight-forward. I simply don't know! And that's the beauty of this. You may think that because I'm such a huge fan of the books that I might be predisposed toward loving each episode even if the end result is a steaming pile of polar bear turds wafting gently in the icy cold winds of the Far North. But, nah-ah. Not on my watch, mister (and mistresses). Let me tell it to you straight right now: if something about this show stinks, you best believe I will call it out. I can do it no other way.
That being said, I have confidence that this show is going to live up to my expectations because the reviews have been, by and large, extremely positive so far.
So while I will call it like I see it, I don't expect that there will be any egregious mistakes for me to get all huffy over.
One more caveat, however, before I go on and start this puppy up: I
am indeed a super fan of the book series, with near encyclopedic recall of most of the major (and some of the minor) threads being woven at any given time throughout all present 4 novels. As such, I probably won't--but most likely still will--make any n00b-like mistakes like calling Eddard Stark "Eddy" for short, or not knowing which pale-faced, clean-shaven adolescent boy is Jon or Robb. No, such things I leave to those less familiar with the books.
What I can promise, though, is that I won't spoil anything for future episodes. When I point out any divergences from the books, I won't then blab away about how this chicken deflowering scene doesn't work because in book 3, chapter 53 we learn that Tyrion the dwarf does not, in fact, enjoy poultry in either its plucked or feathered state, and would thus never be caught dead in a chicken coop at some ungodly hour of the morning. No matter, I say, no matter how many barrels of ale he's consumed!
So we cool, ese, we cool?
Cool, I thought so! And now, without further ado . . .
