Tuesday - May 22, 2012

Fire Kissed

Bit of a debate in my house over this one.

We’re addicted to watching HBO’s Game of Thrones, the gritty and violent medieval sci-fi fantasy series closely based on the massive story written by George Martin. It’s an extremely complex and never ending tale of politics, religion, avarice, and war, with a slight bit of magic here and there, and a cast of hundreds. Thousands. A dozen families or city states vying for power all across their globe. At least 50 main characters, until they get killed. And almost all of them get killed, eventually. I’ve read the books several times, my wife has never turned a page of them. And while HBO pushes the series with the tag line “Winter is coming”, each season is only 10 episodes long and shown in the Spring. Mid-April to June, then wait another 10 months. Arrrggh!! But it works, and the episodes are incredibly well done and insanely detailed; viewership for season two is up 50% over season one.

The series is filmed all over the world. Ms. Leslie’s part of the story is filmed in Iceland. Her character is a Wildling, one of the Free People of the frozen north who live a harsh, semi-barbaric, nearly caveman-like life in the icy wastes. They somewhat co-exist with the remnants of several semi-human species, and are always under threat from the wights (re-animated dead people) and the even more fearful Others. They are cut off from the “civilization” of the Seven Kingdoms by the Wall, an ancient defensive construction of ice 700 feet tall that runs across the entire continent. But when the seasons change and the temperature drops even further, the evil Others become more active, so the Wildlings and all the northern folks must assault the Wall and get beyond it for their own protection. And that means war. Well, another war, since at least two others are currently ravaging the Seven Kingdoms.

Game of Thrones is filmed in a dark way. Not just the realistic levels of mud and gore, which are ever present. The insides of the castles are lit - barely - by torches. Much of the action takes place in dark forests, or at night. Film technology being what it is, the brilliant albedo of all that ice and snow in Iceland forces the cameras to be really stopped down, with the result that the scenes from the frozen lands are often a bit dim. And here comes Ygritte, swaddled head to foot in her skins and deep in her big hooded parka, reminding me a bit of Kenny from South Park, the boy you never see.

And then the camera angle will change, her character pulls back that hood, and this face emerges. Pale and reddened by the cold, with a ton of red hair, and hypnotic ice blue eyes. Och, aye, and wit ain Scottish accent you couldn’t cut through with a chain saw. Striking. Love it. And Ygritte is such a huge flirt, sassy and fresh, even when it seems she’s about to get her head chopped off.

I think she’s adorable. Ok, she isn’t the most drop dead gorgeous actress ever, and may not be in that special class of redheads who cause heart attacks wherever they go, but I think she bears a more than passing resemblance to a young Courtney Thorne-Smith, who certainly got my boat floating in Revenge of the Nerds and Melrose Place back in the day. To me she has a friendly approachable level of attractiveness. Not to my wife. Women are so cruel, and so critical of other women. After giving it two or three nanoseconds of thought, her opinion was “Bleh; yuk”. Oh well, that’s what you get from marrying an Italian. Different standards. She can’t see the appeal of northern girls hardly at all, from the Irish Sea to the North Sea to the Baltic. Reds and blondes light my fires but leave her cold. Actually it may be a guy thing, but I can find beauty in women from all over the world, and something attractive in almost any of them. But I also like many kinds of salad dressing, while she sticks with olive oil and red vinegar. And I like all sorts of different wines, while she sticks to oaky reds with lots of tannins.  At least we do agree that the best cars have properly manual transmissions and agile handling, though I do keep a secret yen for the gigantic early 70s land yacht Cadillacs.

I can’t even begin to comprehend her views on what makes guys attractive either. But Game of Thrones satisfies her in that regard. Underneath all the grit, grime, and gore - or perhaps because of it, what I call the Eomer Syndrome - there are a whole lot of really hot guys in the cast. Of all ages, young to old. I’d noticed the same thing about the ladies, but I’m smart enough to just watch and keep my mouth closed.  But I can’t spot the guys. She just about squeals over Kit Harington ("he’s so adoooorable!!!") who plays Jon Snow, Ygritte’s captor and soon to be lover, and I always hear these “yeah baby"s coming from her end of the couch whenever Iain Glenn has a scene. A Scotsman! But if anyone asked me, which they never do, I’d say the best looking guy in the cast, other than NJ’s own famous dwarf Peter Dinklage, would be the guy who plays Jaime Lannister, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau. A Dane! Hey, he’s got the beard thing going, he’s in great shape, rugged but not cruel or dessicated, he doesn’t look like a sissy pretty boy, seems to me to have a bit of the David Beckham thing going on, and he even looks hot in armor, giving him at least an 80 on the Eomer Scale

Nope. “Eww, gross” was her take. Then again, maybe she just hasn’t seen him yet in a good light. He’s spent most of the series covered in blood and pig shit, tied up in a cage in the dark. So we’ll see if her opinion changes if he ever gets cleaned up and out into the sunlight. Maybe I’m wrong. You make the call, just like for Rose Leslie.

Posted by Drew458     on 05/22/2012 at 08:42 AM   
Filed Under: • Eye-Candy • Television •  
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