Game of thrones recap: burning down the dosh khaleen
The fourth (and best) episode of this season of Game of Thrones, “Book of the Stranger,” begins hilariously: Jon Snow — who dramatically stormed out of Castle Black at the end of the last episode — is still hanging out at Castle Black. He’s tensely packing. He must have forgotten that he still had to pack. Edd is passive-aggressively fondling a sword and pouting. Jon makes a dad joke, and Edd does his best Matthew Lawrence in Mrs. Doubtfire impression.
Ser Davos lightly burns (pun intended) Melisandre by implying that she does not know from her Princes That Were Promised, then demands she tell him what happened to Shireen. Before Melisandre can explain that she turned Shireen into a human s’more for absolutely no reason, Brienne pops up. Ser Davos introduces himself, but Brienne stacks multiple power moves on top of each other, building a very complex Jenga Tower of Shade. First, she makes Ser Davos feel like an idiot for not remembering her, even though they once made out at a frat party. Then she implicates both Melisandre and Davos in Renley Baratheon’s death. THEN she’s like, “Oh, I killed Stannis, lol. Kay, see you in the war.”
Littlefinger and Robin decide to help Sansa take back the North and join The Fray, even though they haven’t really had a hit since 2010.
Over in Meereen, Tyrion is effectively setting fire to all of Daenerys’s questionably effective freeing-the-slaves work (apparently, the writers modeled this whole plot point after Abe Lincoln, which, OK, sure). He’s negotiating with the enemies — the Masters of Slaver’s Bay — by offering them seven more years of slavery and a slew of prostitutes under the condition that they halt their funding of a comically costumed terrorist organization. Missandei and Grey Worm are unhappy about this, seeing as both were once slaves and now are #blessed to spend their days trailing hubristic white people beneath the blazing sun while sporting restrictive leather garments.
Elsewhere, Jorah and Daario are training for one of those men-only races where whoever gets the sweatiest and the filthiest and throws up the most in public has the biggest dick. Jorah is having a hard time because he’s old and being slowly consumed by a fatal virus, so Daario has the bigger dick. Even though this is already decided, the two proceed to argue about who has the bigger dick. Meanwhile, Dany wears a grocery bag in the city below. Finally, Daario and Jorah agree to dispose of their weapons and rescue Dany, which was the point all along. Jorah accidentally exposes his greyscale to Daario. Now Daario definitely has the bigger dick.
Down in Dothrakiville, everyone is playing drums and having sex in public, because this is the extremely nuanced way in which Game of Thrones deals with race. “I wish I’d been born a Dothraki!” announces Daario, which is the Game of Thrones version of “Oh my god, I love your hair, can I touch it?” Bumbling white men that they are, Daario and Jorah are almost immediately identified as trespassers; they respond by murdering two Dothraki in the street, then crushing one of their skulls by way of “covering up” the crime. This is played for comic relief.
Dany is chilling at the Dosh Khaleen among multiple old women, women she describes as “stinky.” She announces to everyone that she has to pee. Even though she has been there for, at the very least, several days, she does not know where the bathroom is.
As women have been doing since the beginning of time and will continue to do until the earth is desiccated by the sun, Dany and one of the Dosh Khaleen bond on the way to the bathroom. As men have been doing since the beginning of time and will continue to do until the earth is desiccated by the sun, Jorah and Daario interrupt them. Jorah and Daario’s plan for rescuing Dany is, “We have to go now!!! Run!!” Dany is like, “That is literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard. You are useless and if I didn’t need the occasional sexcapade for stress relief, I would use your dicks as jewelry organizers. BRB.”
Cersei and Jaime charge into the small council meeting and convince Olenna Tyrell that it’s in her best interest to join forces and destroy the Sparrow, lest they face a dystopian future wherein nobody wears shoes. Olenna agrees, and though Uncle Kevan protests, they all steamroll him. Hush, Uncle Kevan. Time for bed.
Theon is having a nice time at sea. No idea how he got to sea from the hinterlands, where he was being pursued by bloodthirsty predators, but anyway. He spies his hometown in the distance: “Oh, look, a bridge hung with wet Scotch tape and Juicy Fruit.” He walks into his sister Yara’s lair, where she sits in front of a fire, drawing up plans for a highway built atop a pile of PBR cans. He is wearing this.
What is this???? It’s a Patagonia fleece that traveled back in time from the apocalypse. It’s a size XS Abercrombie & Fitch sweater that an extremely burly giant stole from his little sister’s closet, wore for 600 years, then used to put out hundreds of forest fires. It is all of the wool from the dozens of decapitated goats from earlier, sewn together and then placed calmly in the crosshairs of an automated weapon. It is unforgivable.
Speaking of forgiveness (another #theme in this episode), Yara is mad at Theon for being psychologically and physically tortured by a insane despot. He apologizes for this egregious mistake. She accuses him of conspiring to steal the throne from her. He’s like, “No, literally, I am barely a shell of a person.” She’s like, “OK, fine, let me put my face very close to yours but not kiss you.” Another not-great sibling reunion, albeit one similarly wrought with sexual tension (even though both parties are aware that Theon’s dick is gone).
Ramsay is murderin’ an apple in his chambers. Osha enters in a nightgown. Clearly she is doomed. Though she gets very close to killing Ramsay, reaching for his apple knife as she pretends to seduce him, ultimately Ramsay kills her via the classic “second apple knife” trick. Ol’ Two Apple Knives Ramsay. I’ll miss Osha, whose entire thing on this show was escorting an ungrateful child around Westeros and then getting apple-sliced to death.
Tormund Giantsbane is making eyes at Brienne across the table at the Wall. Back off, Tormund. Brienne is spoken for (remember, she and Sansa are definitely going to f***, just as soon as Sansa finishes f***ing her bastard brother!).
Sansa and Jon have the same exact argument they had earlier, except this time, thanks to a fun and fancy letter delivered straight from Ramsay’s lips to Jon Snow’s table, it features Extra Rape Threats From Ramsay. “Winterfell is mine, buster,” is what I think I hear Jon Snow read the first time. I am going to pretend he did. Finally, Jon agrees that he and Sansa have to go back to Winterfell with a giant wildling army, if for no other reason than he wants to find his old vape.
Back in Dothrakiville, Dany is standing in front of a group of rape-threat-happy Dothraki men (so, men on Game of Thrones) who get to decide whether Dany is worthy of living out her days among smelly women who don’t pee for days at a time. Her other options: Being sold into slavery, being raped a lot, or having to wear Theon’s sweater. Dany asks the men if they’d like to hear what she thinks, which is that she should be the ruler of the Dothraki. The rape threats increase in urgency and creativity. But the good news is that the same person who built the Greyjoys’ bridge built this Dothraki hut, which is made entirely of wicker and features prominent fire pits. Recognizing this design flaw, Dany proceeds to BURN THE MOTHERF***ING ENTIRE HUT TO THE FLOOR.
Moments later, Dany emerges from the chopstick treehouse completely unscathed and deeply nude. The stunned Dothraki bow before their new(ish) leader. She’s Khaleesi again. Just like she was a few seasons ago? Meaning the last, like, thousands of hours of Dany’s life were kind of pointless? No crowd-surfing on her subjects this time, though, which is nice. Also, Dany, you can touch fire, why don’t you just do that to get out of everything, including parking tickets? Whatever, overall, this is great!!! Murder more men, Game of Thrones!!! I’m not crying, it’s just all of the incinerated Dothraki flesh ashing into my eyes. Jorah and Daario, dicks momentarily forgotten, bow before their queen. The music soars. I’m screaming. This show is occasionally not a trash-can fire. Sometimes it is a wicker-hut fire.