Review Roundup: Season 6, Episode 5 “The Door”

Hoo boy, this was a wild one. This was one of those rare episodes where most of the critics ended up with some sort of perspective on each scene in the episode, which speaks both to the episode’s strengths (particularly the script by Benioff and Weiss and the direction by Lost veteran Jack Bender) and to the vitality of each scene in contributing to the big picture, even if quite a few characters ended up wandering off into unknown territory. (This perspective comes courtesy of Brandon Nowalk, The A.V. Club’s Unsullied reviewer.)

Three main stars emerged as the dominant forces of the episode. Unsurprisingly, the main focus was on Hodor’s tragic end/beginning. Alan Sepinwall, Hitfix:

"Hodor…was far more than a running gag. He was yet another little person (metaphorically speaking) of Westeros whose life was destroyed by the larger forces at play, who became a victim not only of wars between men, but of those between ice monsters and tree creatures, and of the way the series’ past informs its present — and, in this case, of the way the present can influence the past."

Sonia Sarayia at Salon echoes the thematic points of Hodor and Bran’s tragically cosmic connection:

"It is also bone-chilling that Bran’s fate has been tied to Hodor’s since before Bran fled Winterfell, or fell from that tower, or even before he was born; the boy once named Wylis barely even stood a chance against the far more powerful forces of history and magic. Westeros is a beautiful place, but a cruel one too—sometimes in ways that are less about violence and torture and more about the quiet indignities of living a world that is beyond your control."

Much of the eulogizing of Hodor focused on this general theme, but there were a few who opened up the conversation to Bran’s role in Hodor’s death, and how that affects our view of him. Tim Surette at TV.com writes:

"But imagine what Bran must think of all this. You can argue that this was Hodor’s destiny in Bran’s arc, and without him, Bran would be ripped open like a present on Christmas day. But Hodor was more than Bran’s protector, and for Bran to realize that he not only took Wylis away and turned him into Hodor but also was responsible for Hodor’s death will not be easy for him. It’s one thing to give a young man powers and watch as he adjusts to them like every superhero story out there, but to lay this kind of heavy stuff on him is fantastic."

Brandon Nowalk also touches on the “life lesson” aspect:

"Here Bran might have learned—it’s hard to tell what sinks in—a central lesson of the show. There is no such thing as serving good. Whether you’re a fire priestess or a Faceless Man or a loyal knight, you’re serving a person. And people aren’t pure. So queens make bad decisions, hands reinstitute slavery, monks of the Many-Faced God murder for faces, servants of the Lord Of Light burn children, Children Of The Forest sacrifice men."

The only other character to match Hodor digital ink-for-digital ink was Sansa. (The Washington Post’s David Malitz leads his recap of her dealings with a rhetorical question: “Has any character been more impressive this season than Sansa Stark?”) Nerdist’s Alicia Lutes offered the most unabashed cheering on of Sansa:

"Not only did she prove her mettle with her political scheming (get those Karkstarks back on Team Stark, girl! Foster that alliance with your cousins at House Tully! Get it all togetherrrrr!), fancy emboss work, and killer dress-making skills, she also tore Littlefinger a new one for selling her off to Ramsay Bolton. Calling him out on his bulls*** flawlessly[…]Sansa has proven herself, perhaps, the most capable Stark of all. Forcing Littlefinger to say aloud and confront what Ramsay did to her was the perfect power play—and show of strength—we’ve seen in any character, let alone Sansa."

The Washington Post’s Alyssa Rosenberg was also moved by Sophie Turner’s performance:

"Sansa’s insistence that Petyr hear some small part of the litany of tortures Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon) inflicted upon her is a striking moment of acting from Turner, and of how Sansa’s changed. If Joffrey Baratheon (Jack Gleeson) taught her nothing else, he gave Sansa a bitter lesson in the truth that there is nothing ladylike in trying to disguise viciousness and abuse as romance, or to accept blame for violence in the hope you can mitigate it."

There was also a healthy dose of meta-theater in both Stark sisters’ storylines, though for Sansa’s conversation with Littlefinger, it was met largely with relief that the show was properly dealing with the fallout of Sansa’s horrific married life to Ramsay. Myles McNutt, who writes the book-reader reviews for The A.V. Club, put it this way:

"When the show initiated that storyline last season, I expressed my concern that the show’s breathless pacing might not leave room for this type of reflection, and so I am heartened that Benioff and Weiss took the time to let Sansa articulate the effect it had on her to the man who knowingly put her in that position to begin with. Sansa’s confidence in her Mole’s Town rendezvous with Littlefinger does a lot to make what happened to Sansa at Winterfell a meaningful and resonant engine for her present and future growth."

The meta-theater in Arya’s storyline was more blatant, but was also largely met with relief, if only because it was a break from the dreary House of Black and White. (As an aside, this plot alone prompted at least four separate mentions of Hamilton and I am writing this on the day that #HamOfThrones trended. ~Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now!~) Alyssa Rosenberg (Hamilton reference person #2) found some thematic resonance—she was exploring the theme of the different versions of stories characters attempt to create for themselves:

"As much as Ayra’s storyline sometimes seems to have stalled this season, there is some virtue — at least thematically– to that indecision in this episode. You can linger between versions of a story for a very long time, as Arya has and as Bran has through his lessons with the Three-Eyed Raven (Max von Sydow). But at some point, you have to pick a version of your story, or at least the bits and pieces of truth you find in all the retellings that loop around you over and over again, and choose a path down which to move forward."

Alan Sepinwall also noted the effectiveness of the bastardized version of season one that played out before us:

"That was not only a nice nod to the show’s spiritual roots in England, where Shakespeare and other playwrights made drama out of tragedies (in this case, a very recent one), but also a lively and amusing reminder of how so many of the show’s stories must look to people who only have one small part of the picture, or who live as far away as Braavos. In this version, for instance, Tyrion is every bit the monster his reputation paints him as, Joffrey’s not a sadist, and Arya’s father is peak Stupid Ned Stark, which at once feels unfair to him and a pretty apt portrayal of how he ultimately behaved in season 1."

And Myles McNutt drew a line through the show’s placement of Arya within the various plotlines she’s been involved with: “The show has consistently placed her in servant roles—as Tywin’s cup boy at Harrenhal, as The Hound’s ‘squire,’ and now as a servant of the House Of Black And White—but she has always failed because she was built to be her own boss.” So, almost time to cue up that Fifth Harmony jam, I guess?

As a parting gift—don’t worry, it’s not another Hodor meme, PANIC AT THE DISCO—I’d like to point at Euron Greyjoy for a bit. A subsection of reviewers noted his similarities to a certain U.S. presidential candidate, but none could throw as much veiled shade as Entertainment Weekly’s James Hibberd: “I guess we should all be grateful our political system would never support a candidate who uses a election debate to bully his opponents and brag about his junk.” Bran felt that burn all the way in the Land of Always Winter.