Game of Thrones being miserable

I'm fine that the Starks have a long redemption arc, just like I'm fine with Frodo's long quest, tragic though it be. But the Suffering of the Starks is too long and too uninhibited. I was just thinking about Cersei commanding Ned to put down his direwolf in S1; they don't get her back for that until S8, if ever! Arguably she never suffers for her sins, as she dies in glory at her lover's breast. And Ned's fate is never fully redeemed; but if it is, it's seven seasons later. There's such a long stretch of uninterrupted suffering. Nothing turns around until maybe the end of S6. Meanwhile, Sansa is being raped and chased, Arya is in constant peril, Jon is hated and murdered, Bran loses his own soul, Robb and Cat suffer the reddest fate... why is it so brutally miserable? Why do I want to endure a story so brutal to that which I love? And it's only the TV show that turns things around toward a somewhat happy ending; we don't know whether Martin will give us any of that satisfaction. I just don't understand why it has to be so horrible. Despite the somewhat happy ending, and some desperate elation in various moments of S6-8, all that horror isn't fully redeemed. For a series of such potential for me, I yet barely love it, and that in spite of the middle seasons. Imagine how I could love this show with some small victories along the way.

I'm glad it strains the Starks, and I'm glad there's no plot armor. But the balance leans far too darkly and heavily and miserably for me to consistently enjoy this show. Why not balance it out a bit? Make it enjoyable? Make me happy to watch it?

Moments of positive emotion in Game of Thrones

"Tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey." It was one of the first and finest victories to come in many seasons.

Ned is in the tower in Dorne and we jump-cut from the baby to present-day Jon, understanding he isn't shamed by some random lowly mother. But even then, I didn't realize the full weight of his lineage, which leads me to my next point...

Sam clarifies that Jon isn't a bastard at all -- Rhaegar annulled his prior marriage and ratified the new -- but the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms, and the merging of the two noblest dynasties in Westeros. They're noble for different reasons, granting Jon two angles of nobility.

A few deus ex machina moments: the Lords of the Vale arriving at the Battle of the Bastards, Daenerys arriving at the frozen lake in the far north, Daenerys arriving when Jon is surrounded during the Long Night, Jon's cavalry arriving just as he's ambushed by Ramsay's in the Battle of the Bastards, Jaime spiriting Tyrion away before his execution

Jon's resurrection, obviously -- almost too obviously

Arya ending the Long Night, obviously -- almost too obviously

Robb riding back to his mother with Jaime in tow; a critical emotional lift for the Starks after Ned's fall

Anytime the northerns shout "The {King/Queen} in the North! The {King/Queen} in the North!"

Greatest movies

Somehow I've never really thought to compile a list like this. I've only really considered "favorite" movies. Here's some stream of consciousness:

This is really difficult because -- even beyond the standard conflicts of assessing artistic quality -- I haven't seen many great movies since college. I've matured a bit since then, and my tastes have shifted, yet I have no great movies to speak of, so I'm trying to scrape the bias off some of my old favorites.

Paul Thomas Anderson needs to make this list, being a blend of classic moviemaking and modern stylistic adventure. He's bold without being crass; intellectual without losing empathy. Magnolia and There Will Be Blood are the only options, probably.

When I saw Birdman in college I thought "this is as perfect as movie as I've seen." It lacks grandeur, as far as this list is concerned, and it's ultimately silly, but still.

2001: A Space Odyssey. I don't love submitting an option that has no strong characters and no emotional arc, but the narrative and artistic arcs are too epic to ignore.

Melancholia. I don't know whether critics like this movie. I thought it was a tremendous collision of the intimate and the epic.

Can I say Titanic? I also don't know whether critics like this one... I don't think I've seen it on lists of peak cinema other than in terms of box office revenue. I haven't seen it in a while. But isn't it one of the great archetypal stories, told for optimal entertainment value?

Synecdoche New York is too taste-specific to make this list, but I want it here. Other Kaufman doesn't qualify.

The Departed has to be the greatest Scorsese I've seen. It isn't as epic as some of the others, but it's dense and it hits hard. I love this movie.

Alright, here are the tiers so far:

1. Magnolia
2. 2001: A Space Odyssey, There Will Be Blood, Synecdoche New York
3. The Departed, The Tree of Life, Persona, Melancholia, Punch-Drunk Love, Titanic, Birdman, Godfather

Favorite characters

Definitely a foursome at the top: Gandalf and Ned Stark as the legends, with their genetically-blessed yet insecure proteges (is that the plural?) Aragorn and Jon Snow fulfilling classical-heroic destiny when the former depart

Next are the small ones who move mountains: Samwise, Frodo, Bilbo, and Arya

Then there's a great gap before the next hopeful tier. It's a wide tier, comprising the likes of Tyrion, Sansa, Harry Potter, James Bond, Galadriel...

I wonder about Odysseus and Achilles. I'd have to re-read Homer. I wish Tolkien used Arwen better. I wish GoT and Emilia Clarke did Daenerys better. Michael Scott is not far off this list. Dumbledore would be an obvious candidate if he didn't die so soon. I wonder about Snape. There are a few HP characters that could rise up when I read the books. Same with GoT. Same with Dune!

It is apparent that GoT and LotR are twin stars at the center of my fictional galaxy; and that my old favorites didn't offer lastingly lovable characters (Kaufman, PTA, Kubrick, various poets, other pessimists). Tolkien offered happy endings for my favorite characters, while Martin did not, but both nonetheless wrought lovability.

Frankenstein (2025)

I despised the book, but remarkably, the movie doesn't fail in those ways -- it finds new ways to fail!

The book fails because it's senseless groveling for 10x the length it needed to state its message. The movie replaces that trivia with some very cinematic stuff, making it a more obvious emotional experience, but failing by those shallow theatrics. Some of the visual style is cool, and I like a movie with bold artistry. But that's just del Toro table stakes. The substance of the movie is excessive, silly, and misguided. It's not good writing; it's trying to sound old-fashioned and profound, and it's a simple failure to make a good story. It's a hodgepodge -- a Frankenstein -- of the book, the earlier movies, and del Toro's own vision, and it feels like a hodgepodge. It feels arbitrary, like no professional wrote this movie, a high schooler just handed their script to some technical masters. There's no mastery in the writing, from the dialogue to the plot.

Besides the atmosphere, everything just fell short, wasn't all that great. Isaac did his job, but the script didn't do him justice. I generally liked Elordi. Waltz was wasted. Goth's character made no sense.

Guillermo del Toro thus drops way down for me. I haven't seen much from him, and I remember liking Pan's Labyrinth a long time ago, but the fact that he loved Frankenstein and dreamt for so long of making the perfect adaptation -- only to make this -- is a whole host of red flags. This guy and I must not connect. Now in hindsight, I can see that even his live action movies are kind of cartoonish. He digs fairy tales, thus his visuals, while impressive, almost look animated, and his scripts lack nuance. I can't say that for sure without seeing more of his movies, but that's the sense I'm getting.

It was more faithful to the book than most Frankenstein content I've seen, but betrayed the book in a few critical ways. It was more fantastical, donning much of the Frankenstein image that's been generated by everyone except Mary Shelley: the gothic grandeur, the wacky technology, the epic staging. The book didn't focus on these fantasy elements; Victor simply found a scientific solution to the problem of death, no giant red and green solenoids needed; and the staging wasn't darkly gorgeous, it was just grisly and cynical. The only fantasy was that the science actually succeeded. The rest was simply-garbed. It was gothic not in the sense of Notre Dame but in the sense of wretchedness.

Another departure from the book was the ending. I hated the ending, maybe because it was so different from the book that it felt corrupt. It felt random, inauthentic, unjustified.

Biopics

Instead of every late-20th-century musician (Springsteen, Aretha, Queen, Elvis, Dylan, Elton, Beatles, Michael), we need biopics of more fascinating figures. More intrigue than nostalgia. For instance, Alexander, David, Leonardo... and there I've even given you the titles of the movies, since these figures are so singular as to earn the mononym. Napoleon (with Joaquin) was a worthy effort, though it just wasn't done quite right. But that's the kind of thing that would elevate biopics for me.

The other thing is artistic vision, like I'm Not There. It abstracts and distorts its subject, nearly removing itself from the genre. Aesthetically adventurous biopics are more appealing than the majority who place aesthetics beneath nostalgia, stimulation, historical accuracy, and appealing to as wide a fanbase as possible.

Without aesthetic adventure or truly historically singular subjects (you can't tell me Springsteen had a deep cultural impact when I'm aware of people like Augustus) the ceiling for biopics is so low, and most don't even brush it.

Bob Dylan is one of my favorite famous figures of all time, and A Complete Unknown was admirably done, yet I still didn't love it. You might argue that one actually wasn't all that auspicious for me, since I knew the subject too well, but how many excuses do biopics get? I feel like I'm shooting down most of them.

Maybe I'd like Lincoln (with DDL). Maybe Amadeus. Obviously, I'm leaning toward historical subjects, since they offer more room for deification. For better or worse, that deification is exciting. Perhaps there are some modern options though. Einstein, Fenyman...

Notice I haven't mentioned any women. I lean toward pre-20th-century, and the further back you go, the less women appear in the history. Men rule the history books, mostly, so men are the historical figures of which I'm most aware. But here are a few options: Joan of Arc, Mary, Eve (lol wouldn't really be a biopic), Cleopatra, Elizabeth I, Emily Dickinson (this one would have to be distinctly done, like mostly occurring in her imagination, or deliberately claustrophobic), Helen (wouldn't be a biopic), Athena (wouldn't be a biopic). Maybe I should watch Mary Magdalene.

Bach and Shakespeare are two more options. Plato. Genghis. Buddha. For some of these figures though, not all that much exists in the documents, so if you already know a lot about them, the movie is less valuable. Like, notice I haven't mentioned Julius Caesar. I already know much of what there is to know about him. So unfortunately, I see biopics as largely educational, rather than as of lasting cinematic value.

Biopic about Daniel Day-Lewis starring Daniel Day-Lewis, including scenes of current DDL filming past DDL movies. Answers the question "how would DDL play 2007 DDL paying Daniel Plainview" -- the ultimate question for a method actor (how do you play a method actor).

Anemone

Can a movie stand on acting and atmosphere alone? Anemone argues aye, when the acting is good and the atmosphere energizes you, in a manner of your taste.

I won't say I wouldn't like a little more out of Anemone's narrative... mumble-dramas aren't really my style anymore... but hey, I always liked The Place Beyond the Pines, and Anemone cuts a similar curve. Something about grim filial piety lifts a mumble-drama above its lot.

Daniel Day-Lewis steals the notoriety for this movie, which makes sense, but Sean Bean hit me harder. He is the exquisitest actor to me. What an earthy grumble, yet what nobility therein; he's low and high simultaneously; blood of the first men and right hand of royalty. His character is also more likable than DDL's -- a servant, of course, yet a strong one, of course. DDL takes the neurotic part to Bean's solidity; DDL is exciting and jagged like the Tetons, but Bean is the bedrock. Of course.

You know, looking up Sean Bean now, it feels weird to gush him like I do, because I have to admit I don't even know him. There are so many movies and shows on here I haven't seen, and he's been married five times. I didn't even like Boromir when I first saw him. But Ned changed everything. Honestly, my life started turning toward epic heroic ideals after GOT, and he was the ideal of the ideals.

It's hard not to see Daniel Plainview in Ray Stoker, and you don't take it to be your fault either -- Anemone doesn't try very hard to avoid the comparison. He even frolics in the sea with his long-lost brother! He even stares insanely over a fire. He's a mad loner. You expect a bowling pin moment, any moment now... But There Will Be Blood was much grander, and ultimately more exciting. Anemone is only exciting if you like watching masculinity splinter under a microscope.

This is a genre where I'd usually come in under the general acclaim, but I think this time I'm over, because I like these actors that much, and I like to watch them study their manhood. I like them to grapple with their bruised identity as heroes.

Anemone was a pleasant surprise. I thought it'd be too brooding, like an iceberg -- too much going on below the surface, not all that interesting to float by. But the themes were pointy enough for someone like me, and the characters desperate enough.