Ever since I was 16 years old, I have followed HBO’s Game of Thrones, for better or worse (ESPECIALLY worse). As I’m sure everyone is aware by now, Game of Thrones has finally reached its finale after round ten years on air. I’m also sure that by now everyone is aware about just how disappointing not just this finale, but the season altogether has been for longtime fans of this show.

I’ve certainly never been shy to share my many grievances with Game of Thrones whenever possible, not just about Season 8, but about many seasons prior. I’ve been a skeptic since, maybe, Season 4? (Season 4, Episode 3, if you want to be exact. I did also quit the show cold turkey after Season 5, Episode 6, before dragging myself back into the fold mid-Season 7, possibly due to FOMO). Despite my personal feelings towards the show in general, the problems with Season 8 feels very different, with even the show’s biggest defenders beginning to see the flaws in the show’s writing. The writing’s flaws may also be more obvious to me now as is the first (and only) season of Game of Thrones that I have seen after I watched, what I believe to be, the masterpiece that is Starz’ Black Sails.

Comparing Game of Thrones with Black Sails feels like more than a fair comparison to me, considering that, a) both shows are period dramas, b) both shows deal with complex protagonists that are not morally black and white (for the most part), and c) both shows deal with themes regarding power, and the corrupt systems in our society that oppress others. For the sake of this essay, let us just focus on theme, as while the shows share similar themes on the most basic surface level, their approaches to these could not be more different. Their individual attitudes towards the thematic content of their narratives, therefore, creates a disparity in terms of quality, in which one is clearly head and shoulder above the other.

(SPOILERS BELOW FOR BOTH GAME OF THRONES AND BLACK SAILS, ESPECIALLY THEIR RESPECTIVE FINALES)

Coping with the failure of your lofty ambitions of liberation – Who wore it best?

In season 8, episode 6 of Game of Thrones, Daenerys Targaryen, a character many fans followed passionately from the very beginning, met her end at the hands of her lover-nephew, token good guy Jon Snow, after she snaps and destroys Kings Landing with Dragonfire. Daenerys’ fall should be the show’s greatest tragedy: a protagonist everyone believed was deserving of the Iron Throne succumbing to corruption via a Hero Complex. Instead, the writers appear to have opted for a shocking final twist by making Daenerys the final villain with little to no meaningful build up (for a better example of a Hero Complex used effectively in a story, look up Handsome Jack from the Borderlands video game series). Handled properly, her arc could have been intriguing, showing the audience that even if you have the most honourable of intentions, the pursuit of power is inherently evil, and will ultimately corrupt even the best of us. Unfortunately, due to the final season’s poor pacing (perhaps due to Benioff and Weiss’ eagerness to begin work on another massively popular franchise?), this idea is never fully explored. Instead, and like I mentioned before, the writers opt to treat her progression into “madness” as a final, shocking plot twist rather than a tragic character progression (or regression, in this case).

In Season 4, Episode 10 of Black Sails, Captain Flint’s plans for liberating countless people from England’s grip is ultimately sabotaged by his once close ally, Long John Silver. Throughout his entire arc, Flint had always looked beyond the concerns of his fellow pirates, and instead seeks to challenge the English monarchy through the pillaging of a Spanish ship known as the L’Urca de Lima. The Urca gold becomes the show’s ultimate MacGuffin, fuelling the ambitions of every major character. For Flint in particular, the gold means that he can afford a war against one of the most powerful empires in the world. Before he is able to get his hands on this prize once and for all, his plans are thwarted when he makes a discovery so shocking, that it forces him to reevaluate his intentions and abandon his quest for liberation. Despite Flint never succeeding at his goal of liberating those oppressed under England’s rule, the series’ finale ends on a thought provoking note, asking the audience to ponder the implications of his decision on him, the characters around him, and society at large.

Both of these shows see these protagonists fail at their ultimate goal of liberating oppressed people and/or waging war against those oppressors, ensuring that the systems they fought against continue to remain in place. The difference here lies with just how these people fail, and what these implications of these failures have both on the characters involved, and the world they live in.

“The Iron Throne.” Game of Thrones, Season 8, Episode 6, HBO, 20 May 2019

“The story lines move forward and dig deeper as the episodes progress but rarely circle back and almost never pause for reflection. When I asked Benioff and Weiss if it was possible to infer any overall intentionality to the upcoming 10 episodes, they sneered. “Themes are for eighth-grade book reports,” Benioff told me.“ http://grantland.com/features/the-return-hbo-game-thrones/

One of Daenery’s most poignant speeches from her time on Game of Thrones came from Season 5, Episode 8, when she declared that she was “not going to stop the wheel,” but instead break it. In this instance, and my understanding of it, breaking the wheel would be the ultimate form of liberation for Westeros – destroying the Iron Throne, and splitting up the Seven Kingdoms once and for all. Even when I first heard this speech, I had doubts that the show would fully go through with having her destroy the Iron Throne. For all her talk about “breaking the wheel,” Daenerys claiming what she believes is rightfully hers inherently goes against this mantra, as even claiming the Iron Throne would place her, in her own words, at the top of the wheel. Still, this could have been an interesting dilemma for her character: does she choose the ultimately good option, and destroy her birthright for the good of the people, or does she choose to take the throne that she believes rightfully belongs to her, and become part of a system that continues under the disguise that she would be the best person for the job because she is “good?” The writers would like us to believe it is the latter (and I do believe that is probably George R. R. Martin’s intention for her in the books), but unfortunately, due to the rushed pacing of the final season, this character arc is not fully fleshed out, and she instead becomes the show’s final villain for the purposes of shock value, rather than the purposes of theme.

If there were an ultimate message for both A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones, it should be that power corrupts even if one had the purest of intentions, and no one can truly be free unless the system is destroyed entirely. After all, we as an audience see so many beloved characters suffer because of others, or their own, pursuit of this ultimate power. The message regarding who exactly should possess power Westeros could also have been an interesting theme, as the question of who should hold power within Westeros turns out to be actually pretty subjective (Is Joffrey the rightful king because he is the prince? Is Stannis king because none of Robert’s “children” are actually his children? Is Daenerys queen because the Iron Throne originally belonged to the Targaryens? We could be here forever). Characters within the show even allude to this complicated take on power, such as Varys the Spider, who says that “power resides where men believe it resides. It’s a trick, a shadow on the wall.” This is an incredibly complicated and nuanced thematic concept, one that I would have gladly seen unfold as a commentary on power, and how the act of seeking and holding power over other is always evil, no matter who holds that power. Unfortunately, this sentiment is not shared by Benioff and Weiss, who seemed to have another ending in mind.

After Daenerys is killed and Drogon destroys the Iron Throne, the remaining lords and ladies are left to decide what the plan for Westeros’ future is. Tyrion (on trial for betraying his Queen) cites Daenery’s speech and encourages his fellow lords and ladies to “break the wheel.” If that intention was fully realised, then the outcome of this meeting should have changed the face of Westeros forever. The members of this group should have taken into account all of the horror the people of the country had endured at the hands of those who sought the power behind the Iron Throne. Unfortunately, the only member who seems to care about the suffering her people have endured is Sansa, because everyone else seems content with keeping the monarchy in place, with the only systematic change being the election of a king, rather than relying on (male) blood heirs as successors the throne.

Ultimately, this decision means that nothing major about Westeros changes by the end of the finale, despite the fact that the Iron Throne, the ultimate symbol of power in the land, has been destroyed. The choice to choose a King rather than follow a bloodline ultimately means nothing, because there is still, as Daenerys would put it, someone on top of the wheel. The lords have not lost their power either, meaning that those on the bottom rungs of society will still suffer greatly, and nothing about their lives will have changed. In fact, this choice has the potential to end up with worse situations than the ones we saw throughout the course of the show. If someone believed they were more worthy of the throne (and believe me, someone would be out there), who is to stop them from storming King’s Landing and causing more chaos?

In an interview with Grantland in 2013, one of the show’s writers David Benioff said, “Themes are for eighth-grade book reports” when asked if they had any intention to have characters reflect on their actions in future episodes. The idea of a theme-less or message-less story feels like a ludicrous one, but looking back on the show, their attitude towards theme is obvious, and almost certainly not in a good way, and this lack of though in regards to the show’s themes is the most obvious when watching the finale. The fact that little to no characters see any meaningful progression and virtually end up where they started is evidence to the lack of overall themes and messages of the show, and is also evidence that the show-runners never even had anything meaningful to say with this story (but more on that later). In fact, the only meaningful progression from the beginning of the show is the position of House Stark and the North, who have decided to secede from the Seven Kingdoms after deciding that they had suffered too much under those on the Iron Throne, therefore making it the Six, not Seven, Kingdoms. For a show that so heavily focuses on the consequences of power, the way it ends with a monarchy version 2.0 leaves so much to be desired, and the show has done none of the ground work that could make this ending actually work, leaving to end on a disappointing and anti-climactic note.

“XXXVIII.” Black Sails, Season 4, Episode 10, Starz, April 3 2017

“This is how they survive. You must know this. You’re too smart not to know this. They paint the world full of shadows… and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn’t true. We can prove that it isn’t true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it. And who has been so close to doing it as we are right now?” Captain Flint in Black Sails Season 4, episode 10

In the very first episode of the series, Captain Flint warns his crew member Billy that “civilisation is coming,” and that if they wanted to keep their freedom, that would have to unite under one pirate king and take on whoever comes to take their freedom from them (in this show’s case, England). Throughout the first one and a half seasons of the show, Flint is portrayed as a man of mystery, with clear ambitions even if the audience is not aware as to why he feels so focused on taking out England. In Season 2, Episode 5, however, it is finally made clear to the audience why Flint is so passionate about his crusade to end England’s reign.

A series of flashbacks reveals that, during his time as a Royal Naval Lieutenant (whose true name is James McGraw), he fell in love with the man he was supposed to be aiding, a governor’s son by the name of Thomas Hamilton. Along with Thomas, McGraw had been plotting to reclaim the West Indian territory Nassau under the name of the King. Their aim was to issue pardons to the pirates of Nassau and let them live under the rule of the monarchy. Other political figures see their plans as too radical (including Thomas’ lord father), and they conspire to defeat McGraw and Hamilton’s plans by exposing their relationship to the public. Thomas is taken to a mental asylum, where he is thought to have then died, while McGraw and Miranda choose to travel to Nassau when they are both exiled. McGraw becomes enraged at this betrayal, and vows to take revenge on England, and on those who took his life away from him. Thanks to these flashbacks, it becomes clear that there are two key emotions that fuel Flint’s motivations against the monarchy – anger, and grief. As the story continues and Flint continues to carry out more and more morally dubious deeds, because of this groundwork the audience is able to understand (and even empathise) with his actions, which makes a more nuanced experience for those watching. And after everything the audience had seen Flint do in order to achieve his ultimate goal of a war against England, what then could be the only thing that could stop him in his tracks, and force him to reevaluate? The answer: Thomas Hamilton.

In their many conversations throughout the third and fourth seasons, Silver learns of Flint and Thomas’ relationship, including their downfall. He slowly begins to press Flint more and more about Thomas, and what he would do if Thomas were still alive. He asks Flint if he would trade everything he had built to have Thomas back again, to which he replies, “I think if he knew how close we were to the victory he gave his life to achieve, he wouldn’t want me too.” Here it appears that Flint is unable to entertain the idea of another outcome for him, choosing to focus all of his energy on his crusade. Silver, on the other hand, does not seem convinced, as it slowly becomes apparent that Silver may know something that neither Flint nor the audience knows. This is made especially apparent when, in late season 4, he says to Flint: “Assume [Thomas’] father was just as dark as you say, but was unable to murder his own son. Assume he was able to secret Thomas away from London,” to which Flint simply responds, “He didn’t.” Flint is so consumed by his anger and grief, that any other possibility is simply unthinkable to him.

By including these conversations between the show’s two protagonists towards the climax, the writer’s successfully plant and cultivate the possibility of another outcome to Flint’s story. A choice between the war and Thomas is literally unthinkable for Flint, and to choose between these two outcomes would most likely be the ultimate defining moment of his character arc. During the series finale, Silver presents Flint with this very choice: to reclaim the treasure and fund a revolutionary and potentially life-threatening war against one of the world’s most powerful empires, or to give up his crusade and be reunited with the love of his life. In the end, he chooses Thomas.

Flint choosing to shed his persona and abandon his goal for the sake of his lover speaks volumes about his character. His involvement in this revolution against England seems to be entirely fuelled by his grief and anger, and that without his catalyst, “Flint” would simply not exist. This fact is emphasised within the show as Silver recounts these events to Madi, describing how at first he violently resists to the idea of letting go, continuing to refuse the idea that he could possibly let go of his war before he slowly stops resisting and finally embraces the idea of a life of comfort with Thomas, thus “waking from a long and terrible nightmare” and “reorienting to the daylight.” In this moment, he had finally returned “Flint” to the sea, as he had always intended to someday.

This outcome, while not anticipated, is successfully foreshadowed and, therefore, makes narrative sense in regards to the overall story thanks to these interactions between Flint and Silver. Silver’s involvement in this scenario also raises a number of questions: does he tell Flint about Thomas for Flint’s sake, or does he tell Flint to stop his crusade, which would inevitably kill the ones he loves? Did this moment even happen, or was it just another story Silver told in order to get others onto his side? If this is true, then what really did happen between Flint and Silver in those final moments? This discussion could go on for hours, which I think makes it more of a poignant finale than those like Game of Thrones, which simply ask their audiences to accept the events on screen without inviting further analysis or investment.

Finishing your essay one week before the due date so you have time to proofread vs. writing it six hours before its due while skulling five cups of coffee

“A story is true. A story is untrue. As time extends it matters less and less. The stories we want to be believe… Those are the ones that survive, despite upheaval and transition, and progress. Those are the stories that shape history. And then what does it matter if it was true when it was born? It’s found truth in its maturity…” Captain Jack Rackham in Black Sails Season 4, Episode 10

If you are still not convinced that Black Sails is simply heads above Game of Thrones, lets analyse another core (or seemingly core) theme in both shows – the power of storytelling. Like I mentioned earlier, the way these two shows deal with theme differs greatly, and their approach to the meta theme of storytelling within a story is no different.

In the final episode of Game of Thrones, Tyrion Lannister cites the power of a story when he makes a claim for Bran becoming the new king (“Who has a better story than him?” Short answer: everyone else). Brienne also writes Jaime’s story in the Kingsguard book, and Sam reveals that he has scribed the events of the show in a book, which he has called “A Song of Ice and Fire” (like, cliche much?). Because this ‘storytelling within a story’ trope has not been cultivated throughout the rest of the show, it does not feel earned, and, if anything, makes the ending feel extremely cliche.

Black Sails, on the other hand, features many moments in which characters tell stories to convince others to join their cause, or to give context to their actions. Storytelling is key to this show as several of the main characters – notably Flint and Silver – know or learn how to tell a story in order to achieve their goals. While Flint often gives rousing monologues in order to achieve his goals (which actor Toby Stephens has lovingly referred to as “troubleshooting”), some of Flint’s more revealing moments have been the more understated stories he tells in order to persuade others to join his crusade (such as Richard Guthrie, or the Marooned colony of former slaves).One of the most important of these comes from the 9th episode of Season 2, when he reveals to Miranda why he chose to take on the name ‘Flint’ when he was exiled.

According to Flint, his grandfather was once visited by a mysterious man who called himself “Mr. Flint,” who climbed out of the water and onto his ship one night. The man said that he had fled his fishing trawler after being accused of murder. He then disappeared while Flint’s grandfather went to fetch rum for Mr. Flint, “as if the sea had conjured that man out of nothing, and then taken him back for some unknowable purpose.” He then goes onto elaborate why he decided to name himself after this stranger by saying:

“When I first met [his former Quartermaster Mr. Gates] and he asked me my name… I feared the man I was about to create. I feared that someone born of such dark things would consume me were I not careful. And I was determined only to wear him for a while and then dispose of him when his purpose was complete. And I thought of that story.”

This story is very revealing as to why he would choose to take. He would create the “Flint” persona as a result of his anger and grief over losing Thomas and their former life, and when he was done with him (or if he was done with him), he would shed the persona and return to being James McGraw once more. This story also illuminates why Flint would be persuaded to abandon his quest for a war against England as the Flint persona was only never intended to be permanent, and this is emphasised as he finishes this monologue with, “Every day I’ve worn that name I’ve hated him a little more. I’ve been ready to return him to the sea for a long time.”

Flint also repeatedly presses the power of stories when he talks about what would happen if he were to fail at his goal of igniting a war against the English empire. When Silver challenges Flint in their very last confrontation warns Silver that should they lose this war with England, that, “All this will be for nothing. We will have been for nothing. Defined by their histories, distorted to fit into their narrative, until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children.” It has been clear to the audience for a long time that characters like Flint know understand the power a story can have on people’s minds. He’s been able to utilise that power before, and it has also been used against him as well. And deep down, he may have also been afraid of what people would say about him and his kind if they failed. In this regard, Silver may have put it best, when he is surprised at how much Flint cares about other’s opinions of him, and says, “My God, with all the things you’ve done… it must be awful being you.”

Speaking of John Silver, he is also keenly aware of the power a story can have and is able to manipulate it to achieve his ends. He develops his pension for storytelling when he must make himself indispensable after he and Flint are threatened with banishment from their crew. Over the course of the second and third seasons, Silver’s storytelling skill cultivates into a powerful tool that becomes even bigger than he is. He even receives the persona “Long John Silver” as the result of a story Billy Bones and some other crew members create in order to strike fear into former pirates who had abandoned piracy and accepted pardons from Governor Woodes Rogers. Like I mentioned earlier, his pension for storytelling also has an impact on the finale of the show, as he relies on it to end Flint’s war and to convince his former allies (i.e. Madi) that what he did was the right thing.

All of these seperate threads are then tied together in the finale by Jack Rackham as he delivers the above monologue, and he is able to neatly summarise the end of the narrative while also remaining true to one of its core themes. In short, many characters in the series (Flint, Silver, Rackham, Rogers, etc.) are all preoccupied with being the heroes of their stories and leaving a positive mark on history. Some characters see victories, while others see great losses, but the point is that our history as a civilisation is defined by these stories from our past that are the “winners,” who more-or-less get to dictate how the future turns out.

The big difference between Rackham and Lannister’s finale scenes is as simple as this: these few characters are only introducing this idea to the other characters (and, therefore the audience) in the final dying moments of the show, while Rackham is offering whoever is listening (in this case, both Mark Read and the audience) an ending and overarching message in regards to a theme that had been slowly developing over the course of the entire narrative. It is not surprising that Black Sails’ interpretation of this theme is more powerful, and has been explored much more deeply than Game of Thrones, which appears to only introduce the idea in the very last episode (if TV shows were essays, this would break the rule of never introducing a new idea in the conclusion).

“XXXVIII.” Black Sails, Season 4, Episode 10, Starz, April 3 2017

The difference between the two shows, in my opinion, can be narrowed down to one core element – THEME. I keep citing the Benioff quote (“Themes are for eighth-grade book reports”) because I would like to stress just how ridiculous the notion of a themeless story is. For a story to be themeless, that would mean that the writers (and ultimately, the story) has nothing of importance to say about anything, and has no real purpose for existing at all. Theme is perhaps the most integral part of a story. Theme provides the audience with an emotional message, often about the human condition, and without this key factor, what then is even left behind? The fact that the writers would admit that they do not care about theme has devastating implications in regards to their story. Every theme I have attributed to Game of Thrones is therefore a result of my own analysis and my own experiences reading the book series. In reality, because the writers do not believe in themes (seriously, even considering that idea makes my head spin, and would make my screenwriting lecturer’s head explode), their adaptation is utterly devoid of meaning. Because of this lack of meaning and purpose, then it really is no surprise that the show’s ending is so disappointing. It is as if the writers had simply run out of ideas and just given up instead of letting the show come to a natural conclusion. This lack of theme not only does a disservice to the story itself, but also to those who had invested time and energy into watching. And, given the reaction the majority of the audience has had, they are all aware of this fact, even if they are unable to articulate these thoughts themselves. Black Sails, therefore, provides an excellent alternative to Game of Thrones, as it shows that when thought and care are placed in crafting a theme or message, then the audience are more likely to connect with the story and therefore enjoy the experience.

I will admit, it has been a little frustrating to see people ignore Game of Thrones’ (at times, glaring) flaws. I am, however, relieved to see people start to look beyond the surface level of spectacle and “cultural phenomenon” and really dig into what the writers have actually been telling their audiences (albeit only just before the show ended, but still). Seeing people ask “what was the point of (x)?” or, “we didn’t even find out why (y) was important to the story,” gives me a little more faith in the general public as consumers of art. Experiencing this kind of discourse with shows such as Game of Thrones just makes me appreciate the finale of Black Sails more and more. Even actors on Black Sails have been voicing their gratefulness in regards to their season finale, with Long John Silver actor Luke Arnold tweeting: “So weird. After watching an episode of an unrelated tv show, I feel like tracking down @ jon_steinberg and giving him a kiss.” (x) And I have to say, I feel the exact same way.

One last thing, and perhaps most importantly, #WatchBlackSails