Television Review: Eastwatch (Game of Thrones, S7X05, 2017)

Eastwatch (S7x05)

Airdate: 13 August 2017

Written by: Dave Hill
Directed by: Matt Shakman

Running Time: 58 minutes

For much of its runtime, Game of Thrones has positioned itself as the brand of fantasy not merely different from, but often the deliberate antithesis of, the paradigms established by J.R.R. Tolkien. Where Tolkien’s epic is fundamentally about the struggle between unambiguous good and a corrupting evil, Martin’s world—and its television adaptation—is mired in moral relativism, political cynicism, and the brutal, inglorious realities of power. It is a saga where heroes are beheaded on whims, where weddings become massacres, and where the most noble intentions pave the road to ruin. Yet, whether by authorial intention or directorial accident, the series occasionally stumbles into imagery and narrative beats that feel downright Tolkinesque. One of the most striking examples of this tonal dissonance is provided by the finishing segment of Season 7’s fifth episode, aptly titled Eastwatch. Here, the show’s gritty realism momentarily recedes, replaced by a classic fantasy tableau that would not feel out of place in Middle Earth.

The episode’s title refers to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, the easternmost fortress of the Night’s Watch and, as signified by its belated addition to the series’ iconic opening title sequence, a location of sudden and grave strategic import. The reasoning is sound within the show’s logic: Tormund, Jon Snow, and their allies deduce that the Army of the Dead, whose presence is chillingly confirmed through one of Bran Stark’s greenseer visions, will attempt to ‘punch through’ the Wall at this, its most remote and presumably vulnerable point. This geographical shift northwards, however, cannot occur before the narrative engages in a substantial amount of housekeeping. The aftermath of the preceding episode’s explosive ‘Battle of the Goldroad’ demands attention. Against staggering odds, both Bronn and Jaime Lannister have survived dragonfire and drowning. Jaime’s flight back to King’s Landing is driven by a desperate, newfound conviction: having witnessed Daenerys Targaryen’s dragons reduce an army to ash, he believes no conventional force can stand against her. His mission is to persuade Cersei to seek peace—a daunting task given her temperament. On the battlefield itself, Daenerys exercises a conqueror’s mercy, offering the surviving Lannister loyalists a choice: bend the knee or die. Lord Randyll Tarly, a man of stubborn honour and profound disdain for his own son Samwell, refuses. In a moment of tragic, filial loyalty, his son Dickon (played by Tom Hopper) stands with him. Daenerys, with a steely resolve that visibly unsettles her adviser Tyrion, commands Drogon to incinerate them both. This execution-by-dragonfire is a pivotal character moment, not for the Tarlys, but for Tyrion; it crystallises his growing unease about the monster he may be helping to unleash upon Westeros.

This geopolitical reshuffling continues in King’s Landing. Through the cunning of Ser Davos Seaworth, who smuggles him into the city, Tyrion manages to parley with Jaime. The message is one of parley: Cersei is, against her instincts, talked into entertaining negotiations with Daenerys. In a private moment, she reveals to Jaime the reason for a potential softening—or perhaps, more cynically, a tactical gambit: she is pregnant, offering a flicker of hope for their twisted Lannister dynasty. Meanwhile, Davos’s secondary mission yields a popular return: he brings the long-absent Gendry, Robert Baratheon’s bastard, back to Dragonstone, re-introducing a character the audience had perhaps forgotten.

The episode’s other narrative threads feel more like obligatory set-up than organic drama. In Oldtown, Samwell Tarly’s frustration with the Citadel’s wilful ignorance reaches a boiling point. Archmaester Ebrose’s assignment of mind-numbing transcription duty, coupled with a flat refusal to aid the North against the existential threat of the White Walkers, pushes Sam to theft and flight. In his rage, he overlooks a seismic discovery buried in the manuscripts—that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled, a fact which, combined with his subsequent marriage to Lyanna Stark, legitimises Jon Snow as the true heir to the Iron Throne. This contrivance is glaring: Sam’s sudden, petulant departure is transparently a plot device to relocate him towards the main action and to delay the revelation of Jon’s parentage for a more ‘dramatic’ moment later. It is narrative convenience dressed in character motivation, and it feels thin.

Similarly, in Winterfell, the power vacuum left by Jon’s departure fosters a tense, albeit manufactured, conflict between Sansa and Arya Stark. Sansa’s attempts to rule in her brother’s stead are interpreted by Arya—aided by the manipulative genius of Littlefinger—as treacherous ambition. Littlefinger’s scheme, planting Sansa’s coerced childhood letter to Robb, is a classic move from his playbook, but it lands in a landscape now largely denuded of the complex political webs that once defined the show. With so many great houses extinguished and armies decimated, Littlefinger’s decision to remain in Winterfell, playing his small, dangerous game, feels like the last gasp of the show’s earlier, more intricate political intrigue.

The core of the episode, however, coalesces at Dragonstone. Jon Snow, ever the pragmatic northerner, advocates to Daenerys that a temporary truce with Cersei is essential to face the greater foe: the White Walkers. He posits that even Cersei might be reasoned with if presented with irrefutable proof—a captured wight. Thus, the ‘wight hunt’ is born. Jon, Gendry, Jorah Mormont, and Davos sail for Eastwatch. There, in a convenient narrative confluence, they join forces with Tormund Giantsbane and three members of the Brotherhood Without Banners—Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion, and the Hound—who had been captured while attempting a similar mission. Davos remains at the Wall as the logistical anchor, while the rest form a motley crew that ventures into the frozen wastes beyond.

Director Matt Shakman, tasked with an episode largely devoid of the set-piece battles that defined Season 7, must find his moments elsewhere. The action is sparse, limited essentially to a brief, efficient scene where Gendry dispatches two Goldcloaks who discover Tyrion in King’s Landing. Instead, Shakman’s flair is demonstrated in quieter, character-driven sequences. The much-discussed scene where Jon Snow gingerly pets Drogon, the dragon reacting with curious acceptance, is a great display of visual storytelling. Deployed without dialogue, it is a heavy-handed but effective use of CGI to telegraph Jon’s hidden Targaryen ancestry, a moment of mythical connection amidst the political machinations.

The episode also serves to rehabilitate forgotten characters. Gendry, after seasons rowing a metaphorical boat, returns with a renewed purpose. His meeting with Jon Snow is a highlight—two young men, both burdened by the legacy of their fathers (one a king, the other a lord), acknowledging their bastard status and forging an immediate, easy camaraderie. It is a simple, human moment that the show often neglects in its rush towards spectacle.

Yet, for all these functional plot movements, Eastwatch is ultimately defined by its final image. As the small, diverse band—a king, a bastard, a knight, a wildling, a red priest, a fire-worshipping lord, and a cynical killer—trudges single-file into the blighted, snowy wilderness beyond the Wall, the composition is unmistakable. This is a direct, deliberate visual quotation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring setting out from Rivendell. Shakman has admitted his cinematic inspiration was the slow-motion walk before the final showdown in Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch, but the cultural resonance is pure Tolkien. It is a moment of heroic, collective purpose that the show has typically deconstructed or denied its characters. Here, it plays it straight. The problem is one of tonal integration. This ‘Fellowship’ moment feels unearned within Game of Thrones’ established ethos. These men have not bonded through shared hardship yet; they are a hastily assembled task force, several of whom have tried to kill each other in the past. The image promises a classic fantasy adventure, but it clashes with the show’s ingrained skepticism about such grand, simple quests.

In the end, Eastwatch is not among the most memorable episodes of Game of Thrones. It is an instalment of transition and assembly, necessary for positioning the pieces on the board for the season’s final acts. Its plot mechanics are sometimes clumsy, as seen in Sam’s rushed exit from Oldtown and the overly convenient gathering of the wight-hunting party. However, it is functionally competent, moving the major players where they need to be and providing a few potent character moments. Its lasting impression, however, may be that final, controversially Tolkinesque shot—a beautiful, epic image that, depending on one’s perspective, either wonderfully embraces the core fantasy the show often rejects, or awkwardly stumbles into a genre moment it hasn’t fully justified. It is the episode’s greatest strength and its most puzzling anomaly.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

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