(This is another one of those visual rhetoric posts that's born of this upcoming course. The next post in this series can be found here. The course blog, which is currently still in the demo stage so don't judge, is here.)
In the previous post we established that the director of "Winter Is Coming," Tim Van Patten, went to great lengths to transform Will into a sympathetic character. He can choose immediate death at the cold hands of the white walker or run back to Winterfell and face immediate death for having deserted his post on the wall. He chose the latter, which in terms of prolonging his life was the correct choice, but eventually his decision caught up with him:
As hinted in the previous post, this shot is almost a graphic match that straddles the opening credits. Will's forlorn face as he decides to run to this death rather than face the other resembles, in a compositional sense, this medium long shot of his capture. The difference is one of scale, and it's an understandable one, as the previous medium close-up highlighted his pained indecision, whereas this medium long shot diminishes him to the "proper" height of one about to be beheaded.
But as I noted in the previous post, Will is but a directorial tool—a means to a sympathy-creating ends. The deep focus in the shot above emphasizes the fact that despite the fact that Will's in the middle of an open field, he's surrounded and escape is impossible. Unlike when he was north of the wall and the danger was effectively hidden in plain sight and shallow focus, south of the wall, easily spotted threats arrive from all directions. Hence, the look of resignation on Will's face. Not that Will matters.
He doesn't. He's but a means to an end, and that end is the introduction of the rigorously structured points of view present in the novel. This episode, "Winter Is Coming," translates nine chapters of Game of Thrones from the page to the screen. Ignoring, for the moment, Daenerys I and II, which cover happenings an ocean away, the episode must introduce the perspectives presented in Bran I, Catelyn I, Eddard I, Jon I, Catelyn II and Bran II. Without going full-Rashomon, how can Van Patten accomplish this? By introducing their internal thoughts and feelings via their reactions to Poor Will's unfortunate fate. The shot above follows some of the riders to an establishing shot of Winterfell:
Without knowing anything else about what's going on here, what has Van Patten communicated? Unlike the inhumanely scaled wall presented in the Prologue, this castle is imposing but clearly of human design and repair. It's also clearly a castle, which creates in the audience the expectation that they'll be meeting the groomers and smithies and kitchen wards. Of course not: if Van Patten had cut to a crack in the castle wall large enough for someone half-starved to slip through, that might be the case, but he cut to a majestic extreme long shot of a castle lording over its domain, so of course we're about to be introduced to royalty:
Or people with pretentions of royalty. That's Bran—of Bran I and Bran
II—along with his half-brother Jon Snow and the next Lord of Winterfell,
Robb Stark. (Who I initially mistook for Theon Greyjoy, because I need new glasses, but which is an interesting mistake.) Snow and Stark
will eventually have chapters of their own, but at this point Van
Patten is more interested in introducing Bran's perspective because
that's who narrates the chapters in the novel. That said, the
introductory image of Bran is telling: Jon Snow, the Lord's bastard
son, dominates the center of the frame with what I'd call a pedagogical
calm. He's instructing the Lord's legitimate heir, Bran, in the
niceties of hitting what one aims at, and Bran's clearly trying to
impress him. Bran and Robb flank Jon, but because the movement in the
shot belongs to Bran, Robb's position is akin to not insignificant
backdrop, but backdrop nonetheless. From this shot, then, it's apparent
that Bran wants to impress Jon and isn't unaware of Robb, which is
just as it is in the novel.
This
opening scene at Winterfell isn't in the novel, which skips
immediately from Will's trial in the Prologue to the beheading of an
unnamed deserter from the Night's Watch. Significantly, Van Patten
chooses to connect the Prologue with Bran I by having the deserter be
Poor Will, and he interposes a scene in Winterfell prior to Poor Will's
beheading in order to establish the perspective of certain characters.
In this case, the central perspective establish is Bran's. He's the one
shooting target practice above and receiving tender archery lessons
from his bastard-brother:
Note again the composition of the shot: Jon's the most central, only
now he's comforting Bran more directly. Robb's still in the backdrop, but by
including all three in the frame Van Patten's suggesting that there's a
strong bond between lordling, bastard and heir. From the
perspective of Bran I, not to mention future events aplenty, that's
clearly not the case—but Bran clearly feels some connection to Robb,
and it's established in these opening medium and medium close-ups. So
too is the tenderness that Lord Eddard feels toward his sons, true-blood
or otherwise:
This odd, not quite point-of-view shot from a balcony above the boys
includes both the three of them and the shoulders of Eddard and his
wife, Catelyn. It's significant because any time a director includes
multiple figures in a shot, he or she suggests that they're somehow
connected. This is especially true in an introductory scene in which
this type of framing is unnecessary. Of course, because Eddard and
Catelyn have their backs to the camera it's impossible to tell how they
feel about this display, which is why Van Patten reverses:
They're clearly happy parents. Of course, the novel tells us otherwise,
especially as regards Catelyn's feelings about Ned's bastard, but at
this moment they're engaged in something resembling domestic bliss. Only
with bastards. Point being: Bran's attempting to do something, Jon's
gently helping him, Robb's indifferently watching Jon help, and Ned and
Catelyn are looking upon the boys with laughter on their faces and
something resembling love in their hearts. Or so it seems from Bran's perspective
which up to this point is where this scene's been focalized through.
This is Bran's understanding of his world, and if it doesn't align with
Catelyn's, that's beside the point. Van Patten's providing
insight into Bran's thoughts about life in Winterfell, including those
about his sisters, one of whom:
Is very much the little princess and important. Note that in this
medium close-up of Sansa the Nurse occupies the same position Jon Snow
did before the cut with one significant difference: whereas Jon towered over Bran as he taught him and only leaned over
to provide advice, the Nurse is central to the frame but still sits in a
position of supplication. Unlike Bran, then, who treats his bastard
brother as an equal, Sansa can't even bear to have her beloved Nurse
look her directly in the eye. I'd argue that this is still Bran's
perspective of both this sister and the other one in the scene, Arya,
who's actually more central than her sister both initially, above, and
as the camera tracks laterally to the left:
Until Arya almost occupies the entire frame. The shift of attention
from Sansa to Arya is significant despite the fact that her own chapter
won't feature in this episode. Arya's more central, and thus more
significant in a filmic sense, than her sister, and this is a point
that will resonate throughout the series and the novels. For now, it
indicates how connected Bran feels to each of his sisters, relatively
speaking, although it doesn't necessarily indicate how he feels about
that connection given that when he finally hits the target:
He didn't hit the target:
The family dynamics of House Eddard Stark are being delineated via the perspective of its youngest male heir. Although these scenes aren't in the novel, they're necessary to understand how Bran will react to Poor Will's execution. Who will provide him guidance and who will provide him comfort matter, and they're established in this short bit of domestic bliss. Tomorrow I'll bring the sympathy-engendering Prologue together with the above non-canonical interactions in order to demonstrate how crucial Poor Will is to establishing the importance of perspective in the series.
NOTE: For some reason, some images seem to be disappearing, then reappearing, then disappearing again and claiming that there are errors in them. If this happens, please contact me. I'm not sure why that's happening, but I can correct it by re-uploading the images. Also, if you know how to correct it, by all means, tell me. It's annoying having to re-upload all these images.
Minor correction, in the 3rd image that's Robb standing next to Snow, not Theon.
Posted by: Darek | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 03:36 PM
That's Robb in those shots, not Theon.
Posted by: Becky Salmond | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 03:40 PM
Thanks! I need new glasses. Yes, you're right. Don't know why I missed that. But, I don't think it changes my overall point about Bran's relation to his siblings, bastard, hostage, or otherwise.
Posted by: SEK | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 03:47 PM
Also *spoiler alert* Robb doesn't have any POV chapters.
Posted by: Becky Salmond | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 04:18 PM
Did I claim he did? I know I did when I thought he was Theon, but I I don't think I'm still claiming that. Damn it, they should've made those boys look less alike.
Posted by: SEK | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 04:23 PM
Yes, your overall point remains unchanged, though I think the relationship between Robb and Jon in this scene (as well as in the 'execution' scene that follows) is noteworthy on its own.
Posted by: Darek | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 04:23 PM
I think the relationship between Robb and Jon in this scene (as well as in the 'execution' scene that follows) is noteworthy on its own.
That's absolutely correct. There's something lordly to Robb allowing Jon to teach Bran, but to a certain extent, there's an aloofness to it too that plays out over the rest of the novels. I'm trying not to get ahead of myself here, as I've already written the next post, and it does deal with how Robb and Bran and Jon interact.
Posted by: SEK | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 04:25 PM
Part of the aloofness comes from the fact that, unlike Jon, Robb is more directly under the eyes of Eddard as his heir, and is thus more of an object of inquiry (in a more intense way than Bran is, since Bran's the backup), and less free to step into new roles like that of teacher. In dealing with Bran, Robb is the protector and substitute-father, but not really equipped to be the latter; Jon's more of a playmate and fellow dreamer.
Posted by: StevenAttewell | Friday, 21 September 2012 at 05:49 PM
One thing that pops out with this analysis (at least to me) is how similar Van Patten's focalization moves are to Martin Scorsese's in Taxi Driver. The problem Scorsese and Paul Schrader faced was how to represent something like first-person POV without going all Being John Malkovich. They achieved this through some clever use of expressionism, so the mise-en-scene helped expressed how the character of the scene (usually but not always Travis) interpreted the action in front of us.
For those who've read the book, we know Catelyn can barely stomach Jon's presence; so the fact that she's so willingly grinning down upon Jon instructing her beloved Bran should be the tell the audience in the know something is off about Catelyn's demeanor.
But if as you point out this is all from Bran's naive perspective, it makes all kinds of sense. Catelyn's good humor is part of a mise-en-scene that expresses Bran's perspective in an almost ventriloquist, James Joyce/Hugh Kenner 'Uncle Charles Principle' sort of way.
But what if you haven't read the novels and aren't privy to that information? We certainly find out later that Catelyn isn't on Team Snow, and an active viewer might recognize the dissonance between that later disdain and this opening shot. The show's too carefully structured for that dissonance to be an accident, so if the audience recognizes the dissonance as such, it could be taken as the series teaching the audience how to perceive its varieties of focalization.
Something else that might be worth exploring: Take these interlocking shot sequences used to introduce the important points of view from the novel. The way they're linked together so seamlessly through the matching shots functions almost like clockwork, which the audience is also visually prepped for through the clockwork Westeros sequence in the opening credits.
Posted by: mxyzptlk | Saturday, 22 September 2012 at 01:54 AM
Yeah... "Snow and Stark will eventually have chapters of their own"...
Sorry for the comments. I've been a lurker the past few months and overwhelmed by the intelligence in these posts. I finally feel confident enough to say something, and I'm afraid it's made me look like a dick. Many apologies! Only a SoIaF enthusiast... so glad you're writing these out!!
Posted by: Becky Salmond | Saturday, 22 September 2012 at 11:46 PM
BECKY SALMOND: I finally feel confident enough to say something, and I'm afraid it's made made look like a dick.
Not in the least! In all honesty, I'm a neophyte in the SOIAF community, so I'm bound, if not almost certain, to make mistakes on that regard. My expertise is in the visuals, so when I trip up on the specifics of the show, I don't mind in the least if people call me out on it. After all, most of the experts in the Martin have been imbuing the books for years, whereas I've only watched the series and read the books in the past two months. I'm bound to make mistakes, and am more than happy to be called out on them when I do.
MXYZPTLK: [T]he fact that she's so willingly grinning down upon Jon instructing her beloved Bran should be the tell the audience in the know something is off about Catelyn's demeanor.
That's what I want to emphasize, and will, when I finish the next post ... which, barring more rolling brown-outs, should be tomorrow.
Catelyn's good humor is part of a mise-en-scene that expresses Bran's perspective in an almost ventriloquist, James Joyce/Hugh Kenner 'Uncle Charles Principle' sort of way.
I'm not going to go in to whether it's more like "Clay" or "A Painful Case" at this moment, but yes, there's a narrative bait-and-switch at work in that opening scene, and it's made all the more obvious for being invented for the series instead of coming from the novel.
The way they're linked together so seamlessly through the matching shots functions almost like clockwork, which the audience is also visually prepped for through the clockwork Westeros sequence in the opening credits.
I have a whole thing about that, I just haven't worked it up yet. I agree, though, that the clockwork presentation creates a tension between the messiness of the plot and the apparent Swissness of the opening credit sequence.
Posted by: SEK | Sunday, 23 September 2012 at 12:07 AM
That comment wasn't supposed to look like that. I hope it's still legible, but much like with the disappearing images and broken links, TypePad's done something funky to that comment. Ignore the slightly insulting format and focus on the not-at-all-insulting content, please?
Posted by: SEK | Sunday, 23 September 2012 at 12:09 AM