Game of Thrones finale

Joining the chorus: Game of Thrones finale sucked

It typically takes an act of Congress for me to get geared up for a television show. I’ve had my few (“few,” being the optimal word, here) — The Sopranos and Breaking Bad, for instance — where I waited with bated breath for an upcoming season to unfurl. Maybe it was sheer curiosity on how the loose ends would tie up or perhaps the two-year wait got the best of me. But dang it, I was just as hyped for the Game of Thrones finale.

Except, it blew ass.

Monumental ass.

All season long, at that.

Truth is, I could write an epistle on all the particulars that irked my viewership of the Game of Thrones finale. But any venture into online postings will point out the obvious flaws to the finale. So I’ll sing my part of that chorus another day. This diatribe speaks solely to the brand its show-runners ignored, haphazardly and unapologetically. Screw them for wasting my time in the process.

For seven masterfully crafted seasons, Game of Thrones was ripe with complexity and character nuance. Each character (and there were many) took what seemed to be several small but pivotal steps in the advancement of their arc with each episode. These elements were delicately woven together and climaxed suddenly and profoundly. The histories were rich and the battles were sweeping. We brutally lost characters we loved as well as those we despised. All this cultivated a fervent brand following like none other.

“More than any other series at present, the Game of Thrones finale had an obligation to conclude the story in the manner its brand demanded. But it hedged around that and took a quick and bland exit out.”

Game of Thrones finale betrayed what made the series work

But what was once epic turned sour with the final season, especially the Game of Thrones finale. Everything felt damn rushed — even with show times running nearly 90 minutes. And saddest yet, the precision of character arc was forgotten. I could pick these details apart, but this post is about generalities.

I blame show-runners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss. They rushed to get an unfinished story out. George R. R. Martin still has at least two books to go. And once the content material he supplied dried up, so did the power of the story, a hunch I had a few years ago. Nobody can hold the flame that Martin holds. And boy, was that ever apparent with this season.

More than any other series at present, the Game of Thrones finale had an obligation to conclude the story in the manner its brand demanded. But it hedged around that and took a quick and bland exit out. With gaping plot holes remaining. (Just to mention one, because I can’t resist: So I guess Jon’s lineage didn’t matter.)

In years past, I would rewatch seasons, combing episodes for Easter eggs and other pivotal clues. And perhaps, if the show had ended with a modicum of substance, I would rewatch it again and again. But for what reason, now? I’ll never go back to it. Especially when it leads to this revoltingly tepid conclusion.