I don't know about you, but I'm kind of sick of faeries, and it's only the first episode of the season...

In my advance review, I was extremely upfront about my feelings about the handling of the faerie court and the opening sequence of the first episode of Season Four of True Blood ("She's Not There"), written by Alexander Woo and directed by Michael Lehmann, which depicted just what happened to Sookie Stackhouse (Anna Paquin) after she disappeared into the light at the end of last season. What we encounter is a seemingly, well, fairy tale kingdom where human-faerie hybrids snack on light fruits and hang out interminably by a lush fountain courtyard.

Alas, nothing is as it seems and all that glitters is not gold... the tranquility that the tableau presents is once more a false front, a shiny facade concealing the waste and desolation of the faerie realm, which looks rather like the dusty canyons near Calabasas. What follows is a B-movie chase as faeries lob light grenades at Sookie and her granddaddy Earl (Gary Cole), who attempt to flee back to the earthly realm of man once Sookie goes all microwave fingers on Queen Mab.

Yawn. Not how I would have started us back in Season Four. There was something entirely... off about the whole sequence which seemed tonally out of place from True Blood as a whole. Yes, this is a series that is constantly reinventing itself and reimagining its own limits, but I never thought I'd actually find myself watching some weird Syfy Saturday night telepic whilst I was actually watching True Blood. Wisely, this sequence seems to exist to (A) demonstrate that the faeries in question are not actually Disney versions, but the darker versions glimpsed in folklore, and (B) to get Sookie back to Bon Temps as quickly as possible.

It's the second reason that's the most successful, revealing just what happened to Barry the Bellhop from Season Two (he's also part faerie) and what ever happened to Sookie's missing grandfather, who has spent the last twenty years in the faerie realm, unaware that time has been passing. His death is the rare emotional beat in the opening sequence, as he turns to dust on Adele's grave, finally reunited with his lost love. But the return to earth actually has a third and more important purpose: it allows Alan Ball and the True Blood writing staff to achieve something they haven't done in the past. Yes, a time jump.

Throughout the series, each season has started just seconds or minutes after the conclusion of the previous one, but it was absolutely necessary to get us out of the doldrums of last season and advance the plot significantly. Thus, a one-year jump that finds Sookie grappling with the fact that only a few minutes have past for her while over a year has gone by during which everyone else in Bon Temps is existing in a new status quo. While Sookie blinked, everyone else changed, allowing the series to jump ahead to explore the new circumstances that the characters find themselves in. It's a smart way of breaking the series' time-based narrative device, while allowing the audience to share Sookie's perspective, as she's forced to come to grips with the changes in Bon Temps.

So what's going on with everyone? Let's take a look, character by character.

Eric: He's now purchased Sookie's house right out from underneath her, allegedly as proof of his faith that she was still alive and would come back to Bon Temps eventually. While this makes him her landlord of sorts, it also seems to demonstrate that Eric (Alexander Skarsgard) feels he has certain, er, property rights as the owner of Sookie's ancestral home. In other words, "You're mine!"

Bill: William Compton (Stephen Moyer) is now--wait for it!--the Vampire King of Louisiana, and Eric's boss. Looks like he managed to get one over on old Sophie-Anne, though we'll get more on what happened there in the next few weeks. And Bill seems to be operating under the shared notion that the vampires need to reform their image, something that the AVL agrees with. (Hence that hilarious public service message from Kristin Bauer van Straten's Pam about Fangtasia being for everyone.) He's been under suspicion as Sookie's killer, and provides her with an alibi when she returns to town, saying that she was acting on his authority.

Jason: Jason (Ryan Kwanten) is now a deputy sheriff, serving under Andy Bellefleur (Chris Bauer), who appears to be addicted to vampire blood. And, despite the fact that no one has heard from Crystal in over a year, Jason has continued to care for the poor, in-bred denizens of Hotshot, bringing them food and supplies, and repeatedly fixing their refrigerator... That is, until he's clocked over the head and locked inside said fridge. Oh, Jason...

Lafayette: Lafayette (Nelsan Ellis) hasn't gone soft in the last year, though he did find a new coif to go along with his saucy attitude. He and Jesus (Kevin Alejandro) are still going strong in a committed relationship, though Jesus pulls one over on Lafayette and brings him to his Wicca group, where Lafayette is introduced to Marnie (Fiona Shaw). And just like that, their circle is completed as Lafayette's innate abilities seem to super-charge the group. Marnie is able to successfully bring her dead familiar back to life, thanks to Lafayette's presence... and he's scared out of his wits when Marnie channels poor Eddie to deliver a rose to Lafayette. Eeek.

Tara: Tara is now living in New Orleans under a new identity. As Toni, she's a foxy boxer in a lesbian relationship, though she seems to be far more level-headed than angry. (Notice: she keeps the $20 from the drunken would-be john, rather than kicking his ass.) But she's also living a lie, telling her girlfriend all number of falsehoods as she slips deeper and deeper away from her life as Tara. A text from her dad about her dead grandmother? Please. But whether she comes back to Bon Temps now that Sookie's back in the land of the living remains to be seen...

Sam: After shooting his brother (who is now living with Maxine Fortenberry as a Hoyt manque), Sam (Sam Trammel) is trying to deal with his anger management issues, and he's found a collective of other shifters with whom he can open up about his true nature... and go riding in the woods as a horse. (I loved the bait-and-switch here; while it seemed like they were swingers, they're actually secret shifters.)

Jessica and Hoyt: Bon Temps' resident romantic couple is going through some serious problems one year after moving in together. As Hoyt (Jim Parrack) bristles against the fact that Jessica isn't performing any of her duties as his girlfriend (no food in the house, despite the fact that he's feeding her with his own blood), Jessica (Deborah Ann Woll) snaps. What follows might just be one the most disgusting scenes ever on True Blood as Jessica cracks some eggs into a pan and slops the uncooked eggs--shells and all--onto a plate as Hoyt tucks in. Their stubbornness and anger, at least, quickly turns to humor, indicating that there's still some hope for these two. Sigh. But that scene at Fangtasia, as Jessica finds herself wanting a taste of someone else, doesn't bode well...

Arlene and Terry: Our Merlotte's mainstays (Carrie Preston and Todd Lowe) have already given birth to their darling little baby boy, thanks to the time jump. But a year hasn't assuaged any of Arlene's fears about her son, the offspring of a sadistic serial killer. And he's already decapitating dolls the second no one's looking. Look for things to get seriously weird there over the next few weeks. Is it fitting that the Arlene/Terry storyline is unfolding at the same time as the witches' one? Hmmm...

All in all, it's good to be back in Bon Temps and as soon as we got away from the faeries and lumieres and canyon runs, I felt a lot better about this episode, though it wasn't the most exciting and gripping season opener. It's no surprise then that HBO made the second episode available a week early over on HBO Go, though I personally would have gone with a two-hour opener if possible, as Episode 402 has a hell of a lot more momentum and a better cliffhanger ending. But that's just me. Still, I'm hoping that the witches come more into prominence than the faeries and that things begin to move together quickly... But not too quickly. (I can also honestly say that Episode 402 is a huge improvement on this week's slightly lackluster season opener. Something to look forward to, at least, if you haven't caught the early showing on HBO Go.)

Still, I'm curious to know what you thought about the season opener? Did the faerie bits make you cringe just as much as they did me? Did you overlook the opening sequence to focus more on the character bits back in Bon Temps? Quality-wise, how would you rate this week's episode? Head to the comments section to discuss.

Next week on True Blood ("You Smell Like Dinner"), Sookie adjusts to Bon Tempsʼ new realities; Bill reveals pieces of his past; Eric crashes a witchesʼ meeting; Jason gets his wounds licked; Andy struggles with his addiction; Sam learns of Lunaʼs special talents; Jessica satisfies her blood cravings; and Arlene witnesses strange behavior from her family.

Ep. 38 Preview

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I don't know about you, but I'm kind of sick of faeries, and it's only the first episode of the season...

In my advance review, I was extremely upfront about my feelings about the handling of the faerie court and the opening sequence of the first episode of Season Four of True Blood ("She's Not There"), written by Alexander Woo and directed by Michael Lehmann, which depicted just what happened to Sookie Stackhouse (Anna Paquin) after she disappeared into the light at the end of last season. What we encounter is a seemingly, well, fairy tale kingdom where human-faerie hybrids snack on light fruits and hang out interminably by a lush fountain courtyard.

Alas, nothing is as it seems and all that glitters is not gold... the tranquility that the tableau presents is once more a false front, a shiny facade concealing the waste and desolation of the faerie realm, which looks rather like the dusty canyons near Calabasas. What follows is a B-movie chase as faeries lob light grenades at Sookie and her granddaddy Earl (Gary Cole), who attempt to flee back to the earthly realm of man once Sookie goes all microwave fingers on Queen Mab.

Yawn. Not how I would have started us back in Season Four. There was something entirely... off about the whole sequence which seemed tonally out of place from True Blood as a whole. Yes, this is a series that is constantly reinventing itself and reimagining its own limits, but I never thought I'd actually find myself watching some weird Syfy Saturday night telepic whilst I was actually watching True Blood. Wisely, this sequence seems to exist to (A) demonstrate that the faeries in question are not actually Disney versions, but the darker versions glimpsed in folklore, and (B) to get Sookie back to Bon Temps as quickly as possible.

It's the second reason that's the most successful, revealing just what happened to Barry the Bellhop from Season Two (he's also part faerie) and what ever happened to Sookie's missing grandfather, who has spent the last twenty years in the faerie realm, unaware that time has been passing. His death is the rare emotional beat in the opening sequence, as he turns to dust on Adele's grave, finally reunited with his lost love. But the return to earth actually has a third and more important purpose: it allows Alan Ball and the True Blood writing staff to achieve something they haven't done in the past. Yes, a time jump.

Throughout the series, each season has started just seconds or minutes after the conclusion of the previous one, but it was absolutely necessary to get us out of the doldrums of last season and advance the plot significantly. Thus, a one-year jump that finds Sookie grappling with the fact that only a few minutes have past for her while over a year has gone by during which everyone else in Bon Temps is existing in a new status quo. While Sookie blinked, everyone else changed, allowing the series to jump ahead to explore the new circumstances that the characters find themselves in. It's a smart way of breaking the series' time-based narrative device, while allowing the audience to share Sookie's perspective, as she's forced to come to grips with the changes in Bon Temps.

So what's going on with everyone? Let's take a look, character by character.

Eric: He's now purchased Sookie's house right out from underneath her, allegedly as proof of his faith that she was still alive and would come back to Bon Temps eventually. While this makes him her landlord of sorts, it also seems to demonstrate that Eric (Alexander Skarsgard) feels he has certain, er, property rights as the owner of Sookie's ancestral home. In other words, "You're mine!"

Bill: William Compton (Stephen Moyer) is now--wait for it!--the Vampire King of Louisiana, and Eric's boss. Looks like he managed to get one over on old Sophie-Anne, though we'll get more on what happened there in the next few weeks. And Bill seems to be operating under the shared notion that the vampires need to reform their image, something that the AVL agrees with. (Hence that hilarious public service message from Kristin Bauer van Straten's Pam about Fangtasia being for everyone.) He's been under suspicion as Sookie's killer, and provides her with an alibi when she returns to town, saying that she was acting on his authority.

Jason: Jason (Ryan Kwanten) is now a deputy sheriff, serving under Andy Bellefleur (Chris Bauer), who appears to be addicted to vampire blood. And, despite the fact that no one has heard from Crystal in over a year, Jason has continued to care for the poor, in-bred denizens of Hotshot, bringing them food and supplies, and repeatedly fixing their refrigerator... That is, until he's clocked over the head and locked inside said fridge. Oh, Jason...

Lafayette: Lafayette (Nelsan Ellis) hasn't gone soft in the last year, though he did find a new coif to go along with his saucy attitude. He and Jesus (Kevin Alejandro) are still going strong in a committed relationship, though Jesus pulls one over on Lafayette and brings him to his Wicca group, where Lafayette is introduced to Marnie (Fiona Shaw). And just like that, their circle is completed as Lafayette's innate abilities seem to super-charge the group. Marnie is able to successfully bring her dead familiar back to life, thanks to Lafayette's presence... and he's scared out of his wits when Marnie channels poor Eddie to deliver a rose to Lafayette. Eeek.

Tara: Tara is now living in New Orleans under a new identity. As Toni, she's a foxy boxer in a lesbian relationship, though she seems to be far more level-headed than angry. (Notice: she keeps the $20 from the drunken would-be john, rather than kicking his ass.) But she's also living a lie, telling her girlfriend all number of falsehoods as she slips deeper and deeper away from her life as Tara. A text from her dad about her dead grandmother? Please. But whether she comes back to Bon Temps now that Sookie's back in the land of the living remains to be seen...

Sam: After shooting his brother (who is now living with Maxine Fortenberry as a Hoyt manque), Sam (Sam Trammel) is trying to deal with his anger management issues, and he's found a collective of other shifters with whom he can open up about his true nature... and go riding in the woods as a horse. (I loved the bait-and-switch here; while it seemed like they were swingers, they're actually secret shifters.)

Jessica and Hoyt: Bon Temps' resident romantic couple is going through some serious problems one year after moving in together. As Hoyt (Jim Parrack) bristles against the fact that Jessica isn't performing any of her duties as his girlfriend (no food in the house, despite the fact that he's feeding her with his own blood), Jessica (Deborah Ann Woll) snaps. What follows might just be one the most disgusting scenes ever on True Blood as Jessica cracks some eggs into a pan and slops the uncooked eggs--shells and all--onto a plate as Hoyt tucks in. Their stubbornness and anger, at least, quickly turns to humor, indicating that there's still some hope for these two. Sigh. But that scene at Fangtasia, as Jessica finds herself wanting a taste of someone else, doesn't bode well...

Arlene and Terry: Our Merlotte's mainstays (Carrie Preston and Todd Lowe) have already given birth to their darling little baby boy, thanks to the time jump. But a year hasn't assuaged any of Arlene's fears about her son, the offspring of a sadistic serial killer. And he's already decapitating dolls the second no one's looking. Look for things to get seriously weird there over the next few weeks. Is it fitting that the Arlene/Terry storyline is unfolding at the same time as the witches' one? Hmmm...

All in all, it's good to be back in Bon Temps and as soon as we got away from the faeries and lumieres and canyon runs, I felt a lot better about this episode, though it wasn't the most exciting and gripping season opener. It's no surprise then that HBO made the second episode available a week early over on HBO Go, though I personally would have gone with a two-hour opener if possible, as Episode 402 has a hell of a lot more momentum and a better cliffhanger ending. But that's just me. Still, I'm hoping that the witches come more into prominence than the faeries and that things begin to move together quickly... But not too quickly.

Still, I'm curious to know what you thought about the season opener? Did the faerie bits make you cringe just as much as they did me? Did you overlook the opening sequence to focus more on the character bits back in Bon Temps? Quality-wise, how would you rate this week's episode? Head to the comments section to discuss.

Next week on True Blood ("You Smell Like Dinner"), Sookie adjusts to Bon Tempsʼ new realities; Bill reveals pieces of his past; Eric crashes a witchesʼ meeting; Jason gets his wounds licked; Andy struggles with his addiction; Sam learns of Lunaʼs special talents; Jessica satisfies her blood cravings; and Arlene witnesses strange behavior from her family.

Ep. 38 Preview

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We're heading back to Bon Temps at long last, as Season Four of HBO's libidinous and deliciously addictive vampire drama True Blood kicks off this weekend.

When we last caught up with Sookie Stackhouse (Anna Paquin) and the other denizens of the sleepy Louisiana town turned supernatural hot spot, she had vanished into the light with her faerie godmother after learning that her vampire paramour, Bill Compton (Stephen Moyer) had perhaps not been quite so honest about the circumstances surrounding their first meeting.

In true, er, True Blood fashion, multiple characters were either placed into jeopardy or decided to flee Bon Temps altogether in the third season ender, which closed a creatively uneven season that overflowed with vampire kings, werewolves, drug-induced nightmare visions, and creepy baby dolls. With Season Four, showrunner Alan Ball has the opportunity to right the cart a bit, introducing an overarching storyline that involves witchcraft and some devious spirits and one that places Alexander Skarsgard's Eric Northman front and center.

It's a plotline that once again mixes high and low culture, metaphor and mystery, Southern Gothic and gothic. Eric's story--which SPOILER ALERT! involves a case of amnesia--allows us to see his character in a vastly different light, peering at the vampire sheriff through a prism to see another version of Eric Northman. In fact, the same can be said be true for all of the characters this season, as they each deal with identity issues of their own. It's quite easy to point out the two different versions of Eric, Sookie, Bill, Tara, Jessica, Hoyt, etc. that materialize over the course of the upcoming season. Is there a difference between the true "us" and the ones that we present to the world? How do we define ourselves when no one is looking? Do we have more than one self, more than one identity? And just how fluid is that concept?

These are provocative and tantalizing philosophical questions, couched within the context of a supernatural drama, which as always allows for a heavy use of metaphor and metaphysical exploration. That is, if you can get past the first eight minutes of the season opener.

So what did I think of the first three episodes of Season Four of True Blood? Pop open a Tru Blood, saddle up your horse, and keep reading. (But, as always, do not reproduce this review in full on any websites, message boards, etc.)

True Blood can often be loopy, sometimes deliciously so. It can also be out-there crazy. But the opening sequence of Season Four's "She's Not There"--which finds Sookie in the faerie lands of her blood ancestors--might be one of the worst things to ever appear on True Blood, an oddly literal exercise in D-grade sci-fi, with cheesy and subpar special effects and a tone that's entirely different than anything we've seen on the series to date. While it answers the question of where Sookie disappeared to at the end of last season, it's not the way I would have kicked off Season Four, nor what I would have imagined.

Fortunately, it does get significantly better from there. After a complete misstep in the opening installment, the first three episodes of Season Four of True Blood (sent out to press for review a few weeks back) return to form, shifting the action back to Bon Temps and to the sprawling set of characters established over the last few seasons. Showrunner Alan Ball (whom I interviewed here) is being particularly spoiler-averse this year, which means that I'm forbidden to get into too much detail about the season opener, though those of you who watched the first eight minutes of the season already know a considerable amount about light fruit, Mab, and other details.

But it's the circumstances around Sookie that are perhaps the least interesting elements of the first few episodes back. More intriguing are the other storylines surrounding her: Sam's quest to belong; Jessica's exploration of her true nature; Tara's attempts to find herself (I did say that identity is the key underlying theme, didn't I?); Andy's struggle to maintain his personal sense of order. Elsewhere, the vampires attempt to put a new face on their community following Russell Edgington's televised slaughter of a news anchor last season, high-quality home furnishings and property ownership are discussed, Bill deals with some new responsibilities, and a group of witches convenes at a New Age bookshop, drawing together several familiar faces into the spiritual realm.

I'm still not in love with the faerie storyline (particularly after seeing how it was handled in those opening minutes), but there are several long-dangling plot threads neatly tied up due to some reveals here. Sookie's dual heritage is of especial interest, as she finds herself caught between her own personal desires and the political machinations of the faerie court, such as it is. But there are some shocking moments contained within this plotline as well, at least. (One in particular was a real jaw-dropper.) And there's another storyline--a particularly creepy one surrounding Jason Stackhouse (Ryan Kwanten) and Hotshot--that made my blood run cold.

But, putting these issues aside, the second episode of the season, “You Smell Like Dinner" (written by Brian Buckner and directed by Scott Winant) is a particularly strong installment, setting up a new status quo for the series and examining the fallout from Season Three's events in a compelling and addictive way. There is a precise and adept velocity of storytelling here, with arduous attention given to setting up some pins to be knocked down later. Sure, there is overwrought craziness writ large with a flowing, cursive hand here (True Blood's stock in trade, it seems), but these are moments of compelling new directions for several familiar characters, eye-popping ones at times.

It's impossible to look away from Fiona Shaw's Marnie: she's ambition incarnate in a dowdy print dress, a frumpy housewife whose placid exterior conceals the beating heart of the power-mad. Rutina Wesley's Tara is for once not painted as either the angry black woman or as the victim, but as a rather badass version of herself. Look for a major showdown between Tara and Pam... and some typical steal-stealing from Kristin Bauer van Straten in general, who once again gets to have some of the most deliciously bitchy lines on television and who tosses off these bon mots with such effortless grace that it's auditory candy to hear her speak. (One moment in the season opener, in which Pam tries to reach out to Fangtasia's human customers, is particularly hilarious.) Nelsan Ellis' Lafayette and Kevin Alejandro's Jesus continue to charm; Deborah Ann Woll's Jessica and Jim Parrack's Hoyt, meanwhile, have some hard times ahead. (Let's just say that Jessica's cooking skills aren't quite up to par with Maxine's.)

Alexander Skarsgard shines in this season, delivering a stirring performance that's vastly different to anything we've seen from him to date. Season Four's Eric is an entirely separate creature than the vampire sheriff we've come to know over the last three seasons, displaying a rare innocence and animal naivete that's entirely captured in Skarsgard's subtle facial expressions and in his eyes. He's at the top of his game, really.

At least for now, there's a less frenzied pace to the storytelling (compared to the tail end of Season Three) and a concentration of setting, keeping the action confined to Bon Temps, Hotshot, and nearby Shreveport. Which is a smart decision; last season, the action seemed to whiplash all over the place, taking Sookie and Co. to Mississippi and all over. But by using the area around Bon Temps as a nexus for the season's multitude of plotlines, it infuses every shot of the town with possibility. (You never know just what's lurking on the other side of street.)

There's definitely a lot going on here, as the revolving door of characters keeps on turning apace, but there's also a lot to sink your teeth into, particularly from our returnees, each grappling with problems of a personal or supernatural nature. Or both, as the case may be. That issue of identity, of self-connection and awareness, looms large over the season, and that's a good thing as it draws together these disparate characters into something that's easy to identify with as audience members. Where we come from, our pasts, our family, our experiences: these are the things that define us. Sweep them away, and it's unclear just what you're left with or how you see yourself, regardless of whether or not you have fangs.

Ultimately, Season Four of True Blood does quite a lot right. The second and third episodes are bloody brilliant (especially, as aforementioned, that second one) and there's a terrific sense of momentum and tension here, as a number of tantalizing new mysteries present themselves to the audience. As always, there is the potential here for this new season to be unpredictable, darkly sexy, and blood-soaked fun. So long as we stay well outside of faerie land, that is.

Season Four of True Blood begins this Sunday at 9 pm ET/PT on HBO.

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True Blood withdrawal getting you down? Fret not, fangbangers.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled "Inside True Blood's Fourth Season," in which I sit down with executive producer/showrunner Alan Ball about the fourth season of the HBO vampire drama at his Hollywood office to get some details on what's to come this season.

If that weren't enough True Blood-related deliciousness for you, you can also check out "Nine Things to Know About Season 4 of True Blood," in which Ball teases what's to come for Sookie, Eric, Pam, Tara, Jessica and Hoyt, the faeries, the witches, and more. And there might be a hint or two about what's to come in Season Five as well...

Season Four of True Blood begins this Sunday evening at 9 pm ET/PT on HBO.

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I'll admit that I was completely unprepared for the level of vitriol directed at last night's season finale of The Killing ("Orpheus Descending"), written by Veena Sud and Nic Pizzolatto and directed by Brad Anderson.

It wasn't a perfect season finale (it was woefully clunky and odd at times), but I also don't think that the series ender--or the first season itself--are worthy of the amount of gasoline that is being poured on it. For some, it's one match away from becoming an incendiary, because it failed to answer the series' central question: Who killed Rosie Larsen?

Which is where I feel as though I have been watching a completely different series than other viewers. I'm not going to try to convince anybody that they were wrong to hate the finale, because this level of anger doesn't vanish thanks to some talking points. Television is a hugely subjective medium and our personal experiences with shows are just that: personal. What I will say is that what I've most enjoyed about The Killing is the nuanced character study that it's provided: the way that murder rips open everyone, a black hole that threatens to suck in the victim's family, the suspects, anyone who once crossed paths with her. And, as we see here, even the detectives attempting to solve the case.

To me, the heart of the show has been watching a family struggle at the brink of madness, of dissolution, of anguish and rage and grief. The Larsens have provided an unusual throughline for the season, attempting to cope with the death of Rosie, even as their individual lives threatened to further unravel. What set all of this in motion, was of course the murder of teenager Rosie Larsen, whose frozen-in-amber smile hid all manner of secrets, much like Laura Palmer's did on Twin Peaks. (Interestingly, I keep thinking back to showrunner Veena Sud's insistence that she had never seen Twin Peaks, when I mentioned certain similarities between the two shows. I'm not sure which is worse: that she lied about it, or that she hadn't actually ever watched it.)

Yes, in order for The Killing to function as a narrative, Rosie's killer does need to be unmasked, even if justice isn't ultimately served. But that moment needn't have come at the end of the first season, which is what many viewers were expecting and anticipating. If you had stuck with The Killing for this sole reason, then the finale may have been interminable and frustrating. But, as soon as AMC renewed The Killing for a second season, I knew that there wouldn't be any easy answers, nor potentially any answers at all.

Why? Because Rosie's murder is the plot engine that keeps the show humming along, and I would have been amazed to see Sud and AMC shut it down at the end of the first season when it can still generate a whole slew of potentially interesting developments.

Now, I will say there was one thing about the finale that did irk me, as it did many, and that was the seemingly about-face with Joel Kinnaman's Stephen Holder, who was revealed to be in league with an as-yet-unseen puppet master (Leslie Adams?) and had forged the bridge surveillance footage that linked Darren Richmond to the night of Rosie's murder. Until that point, there was a lot of circumstantial evidence (there still is, in fact) that indicated that Richmond was behind the murder: the use of the Orpheus alias, his frequenting of online prostitutes, Aleena's identification of Darren as the man who lured her to the water, Gwen's assertion that Darren came back early that morning soaking wet.

None of which conclusively point to Darren Richmond having killed Rosie Larsen. He wasn't identified by the gas station attendant (he seemed to assume it was a man driving the car) and we now know that Holder faked the photo that placed him on the bridge. Linden knows this too, even as she prepares to finally leave Seattle for her new life in Sonoma, but it's likely too late for Richmond, as Belko strides up to him, gun in his hand, ready to enact some Biblical vengeance. (Didn't he see how this turned out for Stan?)

Which means that Richmond is another red herring, a liar and a cheat who has broken Gwen's heart yet again, but who may not be the killer after all. Holder's boss--whoever that may be--wants Richmond out of the race, and he may have just gotten Richmond removed from his earthly existence as well.

But I'm troubled by Holder's villainy here. Kinnaman infused Holder with street smarts, an armor of sarcasm and hoodies attempting to deflect any insight into his messed up personal life. I'm sure there's a reason WHY Holder did what he did, one that will be revealed next season naturally. Likely Sud and Co. will find a way to make what he did less troubling in the long run, despite the glee that Holder seemed to have in that scene.

After all, he betrayed Linden outright, jeopardized the case, and broke the vows he pledged to serve the city. It's a slap in the face after their goodbye scene and her begrudging admission that he is a good cop, after all. But it also makes it a little more clear why the episode "Missing" aired when it did. Just as these two finally buried the hatchet and opened up to each other, Holder turns around two days later and stabs her in the back.

Which, on an intellectual level, makes sense, but on an emotional level, the realization that Holder is just as crooked as the other baddies in The Killing doesn't quite hit home. In a series that's overflowing with venal politicians and apathetic cops, shouldn't Linden have someone else on the side of the white hats? Or has Holder (and, consequently one imagines, Kinnaman as well) just done a really good job of pulling the wool over our eyes? After all, he has been willing to share information about the investigation from the start, but is he really just nothing more than a dirty cop?

But in an episode where we finally see crusader Darren Richmond for what he is: a serial cheater and an unrepentant john who has a thing for brunettes, shouldn't there be some male character who isn't a letch, a liar, or a pathetic failure in some way? I had grown to care about Holder in a fashion over the course of these thirteen episodes, and it makes me more concerned that his villainy is the real deal and not a red herring to be eliminated at the start of Season Two.

That will have to wait, however. Despite some of the convolution of the episode and the question marks thrown up around the action (Wait, the cops never searched that part of the park for clues? What does Rosie's shoe prove? Won't Holder get caught the second Linden picks up the phone and tells Oakes about the bridge camera outage? Why doesn't Stan tell Mitch about the other house or the stack of cash in the drawer? Why is Sarah suddenly okay with Jack spending time with his dad?), there were moments of beauty and grace here, of the small kind that The Killing has traded in throughout the season's run.

Stan's scene in the break room with Amber Ahmed being one, a tiny fragment in a larger story that saw these two--united by their sense of loss and pain--have a small moment, unaware of the identity of the other. Stan's palpable grief when he's asked how many children he has sank into my very bones; it's a real quandary of a question. How do you honestly answer that, especially when the asker is a stranger? Mitch's departure from the family and the momentos of anguish that her home represents. Michelle Forbes' performance is once again breathtaking here (Forbes didn't lie when she told me she was done with The Killing), as Mitch comes to terms with the fact that she can't stay with her family. Terry's horror when she realizes that Mitch has left her and the kids to pick up the pieces of their lives. (I had actually wondered whether Mitch would take a more permanent exit from her life.)

In a way, she escapes, which is something no other character on the show manages to do in this week's season finale. Sarah and Jack might be on that plane, but it's still parked on the tarmac, and I don't see Sarah remaining in Sonoma, if she even stays on the plane. She's connected to the dead girl and this case, she's haunted by it as much as Richmond is by Lily's death. Her rage at the councilman indicates her own anguish, her own self-anger, her own insecurities. (Why Linden would confront him in that way is beyond me, however.) As for Richmond, he might be innocent of Rosie's murder but he admits to Linden that he's done some terrible, terrible things. Things we'll likely be finding more about next season, for those of us who will continue to watch.

I count myself among that number. While "Orpheus Descending" was far from perfect, it didn't awaken any such holy anger within me. I'm still wondering who killed Rosie Larsen--and, in their own way, so are those who reacted with such hostility to the lack of resolution on that front--and I still do care about these characters enough to want to see what happens next. The original Danish series split its first season into two parts of ten episodes, and that's more or less what Sud and her writing staff attempted to do here. But I didn't for a second think that there wouldn't be another twist, another red herring, another brutal revelation in the final minutes of the season, nor that Linden would catch Rosie's killer. Season Two of the original found Linden attempting to unravel a vast conspiracy, so why shouldn't that apply here as well, as she tries to uncover the real masters who are pulling Holder's and everyone else's strings? Hmmm...

But that's just me. What did you think about the season finale of The Killing? Did it make you want to hurl your television out of your window? Were you puzzled by the levels of outrage unfolding last night on Twitter? Will you watch a second season? Head to the comments section to discuss.

Season Two of The Killing will air next year on AMC.

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When all we have in life is stripped away from us, what do we have left? What is life worth then?

These questions hover over the breathtaking finale of HBO's Game of Thrones ("Fire and Blood"), written by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss and directed by Alan Taylor, which depicts transformative moments in the lives of several characters, who must come to terms with not only palpable grief but also the realization that a brutal new status quo is upon them. It's a somber throughline that links the separate story threads of Daenerys, Arya, Sansa, and Catelyn, each of whom suffers a grievous loss and who must find their inner strength to face the day again.

For a series that engendered some criticism at its outset from critics and viewers about its depiction of women, particularly the lead female characters at its center, it's a remarkable turning point. Each of these women has suffered at the hands of their enemies, losing the men in their lives, until they must stand alone against those who would do them harm. And we see he literal stripping down of each of these characters--as Arya's hair is cut off and she loses the last vestiges of her identity as Arya Stark of Winterfell, and as Dany walks into the funeral pyre to burn off everything she once held dear--there are clear parallels.

(Also of note: there's a potential suicide beat for both Sansa and Daenerys; Sansa seems as though she is going to jump from the Red Keep's walkway, though it's then revealed she wants to push Joffrey. Likewise, Ser Jorah worries that Dany will leap upon the pyre, but she has other, darker plans of survival.)

In fact, it's the female characters we're left with primarily in the season finale, which shows the aftermath of the death of Ned Stark at the hands of Joffrey, who seems well on his way to being just as cruel and merciless as the Mad King himself. It's through their eyes that we see the true sense of what has changed, as Sansa is led to view the heads of her father and her septa, as Catelyn contemplates murdering Jaime in an act of vengeance against the Lannisters, as Daenerys bids farewell to Drogo and learns of her true nature.

Yes, dragons exist once more.

It's only natural that Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen should be the one to bring them back into the world once more. Having lost her husband, her unborn son, and her entire khalassar, Daenerys is once more alone in the world, her kindness to the maegi being repaid with death. Throughout the season, we've seen the signs that have led us to this moment: her seeming imperviousness to fire; her obsession with those dragon eggs. She is the blood of the dragon and while her womb may be emptied as a result of the maegi's treachery, she gives birth to a new race of dragons. Life springing from death, from the ashes of her beloved's funeral pyre.

Stripped of everything--including her clothing--she sits at the middle of the remains of that fire, those three dragons entwined around her, the mother of destruction incarnate. The Dany we see here is vastly different to the one we met back in the pilot episode: a naive pawn in a man's game of thrones. Now we see her as she accepts her destiny, the heir to the House Targaryen, the mother of three dragons. She is the terrible vengeance only dreamt of by civilized Catelyn Stark. It's the perfect way to leave the season, as dragons--and one, imagines--magic itself returns to Westeros and Essos. The girl that King Robert sought to have assassinated has been transformed into a powerful enemy. And people are at their most dangerous when they have nothing left to lose.

So where do we go from here? That would be telling, and I won't spoil what's to come for Daenerys within George R.R. Martin's novels. But what we do see is a war being waged on multiple fronts: while the Starks' rebellion against the Lannisters seems to be the primary thrust, there are other battles being waged elsewhere. Littlefinger remains the most dangerous man in Westeros, and also one of the most powerful as well. His conversation with Varys in this week's episode remains one of my favorite moments: two tacticians weighing each other up, each trying to find the other's weak spot. (And, lest we forget, spiders are hard to kill. They manage to see all and sneak away through the cracks in the firmament.) Daenerys may have lost her army but gained the only three dragons in all of the world. And, beyond the Wall, the wildlings and the most dangerous enemy of them all, the White Walkers, who have roused from their slumber of millennia. While the Night's Watch prepares to go beyond the Wall, the shield that guards the realm of men is at its weakest, made up of rapists, thieves, and cowards. Will the Wall stand if the White Walkers turn their sights on the south? Can the sworn brotherhood be both shield and sword when winter comes?

Mortals may play at the game of thrones, but there are darker forces at play, greater battles than just who sits upon the Iron Throne. The Starks are always right in the end: Winter--and death--comes for us all in turn. Summer knights may play at the game of kings, but they too will be frozen and blue when the true winter descends on Westeros...

And Joffrey may be the very definition of a summer knight, a boy-king who is ill-suited to the job of leadership, a spiteful brat who relishes the opportunity to make his betrothed stare at the disembodied face of her dead father, who tells her that he will get her with child as soon as she bleeds, who won't beat her himself but has one of his Kingsguard do it for him. Sansa sees the true face of her blonde "prince." Like Daenerys, she too must tap into inner reserves of strength she never knew she had, if she hopes to survive. We also see the continued oddness in her dynamic with the Hound, who offers her a handkerchief to wipe away the blood on her face, and bids her to keep it, as she'll soon need it again. Dogs and wolves together, perhaps?

We also see here that Sansa has lost the innocence and naivete that once defined her character; she's grown harder in just a matter of days, a callus over her soul. The old Sansa would never have attempted to murder her king, yet she doesn't hesitate to step out onto that walkway. And I believe she would have pushed Joffrey, if Clegane hadn't have intervened. She might still be a child, but Sansa has proven (at least to the audience) that she's been dangerously underestimated and that in her blood is that of the Starks. Just as dragons are born here, so too is a true wolf.

Speaking of wolves, we finally get to see Rickon's direwolf, Shaggydog, this week... as the continued subplot of the Stark children and their wolves continues apace. Both Bran and Rickon are led to the crypts beneath Winterfell, where they both saw their father in dreams. Both children seem to be having vastly prophetic dreams that are coming true, as the boys are aware of Ned's death before word of his murder arrives at Winterfell by raven. Just what does it mean exactly? How do they know that their father is dead? And how is this knowledge connected to the three-eyed crow in Bran's dreams?

(Kudos too to Natalia Tena for her jaw-dropping performance as Osha. While I imagined Osha extremely differently within the novels, I am now finding it impossible to separate Tena and Osha in my mind. Her scene with Bran here as she resists going down into the crypts was vibrant and three-dimensional, poignant and profound. Whenever she is on screen, it is impossible to look away, her wild nature at stark--heh--contrast with the highborn civility of Bran.)

Elsewhere, Tyrion found himself suddenly in his father's good graces, promoted to serve as the Hand of the King in King's Landing, removing him from the front line of the war and installing him in the comfortable luxury of the Hand's Tower. (Nevermind that the last two men who served that role both ended up dead.) And, despite Tywin's strict instructions that he leave his "whore" behind, Tyrion makes plans to bring Shae to King's Landing. (I'll say that this depiction of Shae is growing on me; she's less of a camp follower and more of a cunning courtesan, a mirror in some ways of Tyrion's own innate intellect.)

Jon Snow debated whether to forsake his vows and meet up with Robb on the field of engagement or remain at the Wall with the Night's Watch. While he does ride off, it's Sam and his friends who bring Jon back to the Wall. Honor before family, it seems. In losing Ned, Jon has lost not only his father but the only connection to his own past, to the truth about his parentage. Ned and Jon never do get to have that conversation about Jon's birth mother, and Ned takes this secret to his grave. In losing Ned, Jon therefore loses a piece of himself as well, another figurative loss to match the others.

Catelyn is driven to bash Jaime's head in with a stone, but she knows that Jaime is worth more to them alive than dead, and she still has hopes of getting her daughters back from the Lannisters. They need a bargaining chip and the Kingslayer is the best one that they could have hoped for. But if the Joffrey believed that killing Ned would serve as a lesson to the Starks, he was dead wrong: it provokes Robb into strengthening his attack and leads the Greatjon to proclaim Robb "The King in the North," and his bannerman to lay down their swords at his feet in fealty.

Not only then do Renly and Stannis pose a threat to Joffrey's reign but so too does Robb Stark... and that's to say nothing of Robert's bastard children who are in the wind. It's no coincidence that Arya--her hair shorn and now calling herself Arry at Yoren's insistence--meets up with Gendry, who is himself heading to the Wall to become a sworn brother. And, just like Dany and Sansa, Arya is not afraid to act any longer. After stabbing a stableboy in last week's episode, Arya isn't likely to lie down and allow anyone to take Needle from her. She can take care of herself now, a lady turned gutter rat, a wolf with a claw.

And this wouldn't be an episode of Game of Thrones without some sexposition in the mix as well. This week that went yet again to Ros, who washed herself and dressed while Grand Maester Pycelle pontificated about his role as the advisor to many, many kings before losing the thread of the conversation altogether. Eye candy to distract from the speech of an old man, one imagines.

Still, I thought that the finale brought together a number of disparate threads (Jon Snow's attempted desertion, Catelyn's fury, Arya's transformation into Arry, Dany's dragons) into a tense and provocative climax for the season. Like Martin's novels, there's an underlying momentum here, a deadly undertow, that keeps the story throttling along at high speed; it's a true serialized narrative, rather than an episodic one, building and building to a final reveal, one that will keep fans of the show anxious until Game of Thrones returns in 2012. (Or propels them to pick up "A Clash of Kings" anyway.)

A reader commented last week that the season began with a beheading and Episode Nine concluded Ned's storyline with a beheading as well. I'd agree with this thought: there's a beautiful broken symmetry here with the two beheadings: Ned swings the sword and kills a boy--who broke his vow of station--despite the fact that he's telling the truth. Ned is killed with the same sword after breaking his vow to serve the king, and whose final words are lies constructed to save his family. Joffrey, of course, doesn't carry out his execution, but gives Ned's sword (Ice, which has been in the Stark family for centuries) to Ser Ilyn to swing.

All it takes, in the end, is one swing of the blade for everything to change. One step into the flames, one foot on the causeway, one step into the darkness. War may have gripped Westeros, but the true threat to the Seven Kingdoms is the one no one believes in anymore. Ice in the north and fire across the Narrow Sea; white walkers and dragons walk once more. And this is only the beginning...

Game of Thrones will return with its second season in 2012.

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Just a heads up that I'll be conducting a live chat over at The Daily Beast on Monday at 11 am PT/ 2 pm ET time to discuss the season finale of HBO's Game of Thrones ("Fire and Blood"), airing Sunday evening.

Join me and other television critics--including AOLtv's Maureen Ryan, Time's James Poniewozik, and Cultural Learnings' Myles McNutt--and Game of Thrones experts (such as the brains behind Westeros.org and Winter is Coming.Net) and fans, as we discuss the end of the groundbreaking first season and the various twists and turns therein.

You can enter your email address below for a reminder ahead of time as we move closer to the live event.



The season finale of Game of Thrones airs this Sunday evening at 9 pm ET/PT on HBO.

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Sometimes, the answer is staring at you right in the face. Other times, the truth lies far deeper beneath the surface, submerged inside the trunk of a mayoral campaign car.

On this week's stunning episode of AMC's The Killing ("Beau Soleil"), written by Jeremy Doner and Soo Hugh and directed by Keith Gordon, the truth about Rosie Larsen's killer finally seemed within the grasp of Detectives Linden and Holder, or at the very least the initial prime suspect in the slaying of the teenage girl came back into the frame once more.

Given that there is still one more episode left--likely one overflowing with further twists and turns--it's possible (but not all that probable) that there's still more to the story than we're seeing, another layer that's again deeper down in the murky water. But for now it seems as though the killer may have been unmasked.

So what do I think about the latest twist to hit the rain-soaked drama series? Read on...

It's interesting that Darren Richmond is again looking like our prime suspect, given that he seemed the likeliest culprit way back in the pilot episode. After all, it was one of his campaign cars that the corpse of Rosie Larsen was found in and the finger of suspicion seemed to point squarely at him, even as the focus moved to entirely separate lines of inquiry: Rosie's classmates, her teacher Bennet Ahmed, her aunt Terry, even.

But there has been something at the back of my mind since the pilot episode, something deeply unsettling about Darren Richmond and the similarities between Rosie's death and that of his wife's, who we later learn was killed by a drunk driver. Gwen makes the connection and asks Darren what the press will think given the similarities. But what similarities exactly? Lily was killed in an automobile accident, and Rosie died in the trunk of a car in the water. Which is exactly the connection: both women drowned.

While the precise details of Lily's death are still unclear, I believe we will learn that her car went off the bridge into the water and that she drowned. Which means that if Darren is Rosie's killer, his actions seem intended to relive that terrible, pivotal, traumatic moment of his wife's death. He's trying to understand her tragic end by experiencing it, by putting these women through the same experience. Rosie was alive when the car went under, just as likely Lily was still alive as well. Darren is extremely damaged, a borderline personality disorder candidate who can't let go of his dead wife to the point where he needs to feel those same emotions once more.

Gwen now knows that Darren was involved with Rosie, and in a very Twin Peaks-esque twist, Rosie was involved with Beau Soleil, an escort service catering to the well-heeled set of Seattle, including Darren (a client under the pseudonym of Orpheus) and Tom Drexler. The choice of Orpheus is telling as well: in Greek mythology, Orpheus went down into hell to free the soul of his beloved wife Eurydice, who had perished. It seems as though Darren--classically educated as well know he is (remember his command of Cicero)--also has a sick sense of humor, parading his grief in public and using it as a mask for his identity.

I loved that it was another Beau Soleil girl (Alona Tal's Aleena) who makes the positive identification for Holder, luring him to a street corner, where he's able to see Orpheus for himself: on the campaign posters of Darren Richmond. (The juxtaposition of the Seattle poster boy for crusading good and those "Who Killed Rosie Larsen?" posters that comprised AMC's marketing campaign seems to good to be true.) Elsewhere, Linden came face to face with the putative killer, as she realized the emails she was sending Orpheus were arriving right on Darren's home computer. I'm not quite sure how Linden intends to talk her way out of that one, but she's also snooping in Richmond's home without a warrant, so I don't know how admissible that particular piece of evidence is.

Kudos as well to Michelle Forbes and Jamie Anne Allman in their tense scene together this week, as the two sisters nearly came to blows about which of them better knew Rosie. While I had suspected that Terry recruited Rosie to Beau Soleil, the scene at the bar proved that she was completely floored when Linden and Holder made a connection between her niece and the escort service she works for. And her grief--and sense of culpability--flowed nicely into Terry's confrontation with Mitch, a scene that captured the bitterness and enmity between the two sisters, each one to blame in their own way for not seeing what path Rosie was on. While some viewers (and critics) seem to groan at the "lack of action" within the series, it's these small, personal moments--the silences and frustrated looks of blame--that make The Killing for me, seeing how grief and loss can twist a family.

And it was fitting that it's Terry who bails Stan out of jail, given that Mitch seems unwilling to do so. I also marveled at the rage between husband and wife in the jail scene between Stan and Mitch, as the former makes it clear that she is just as much to blame for the mess their currently in, that she pushed him to take action against Bennet. Her hands are just as unclean as his in this situation.

But with one episode remaining, it seems as though we're inching our way closer to justice for Rosie, the girl that no one really seemed to know, a Laura Palmer manque who traded her study books for high heels and casino runs, and whose smile hid a world of hurt. Will Larsen and Holder be able to close the books on Richmond? Is Richmond the killer? And what did you make of Tom Drexler's fishbowl weirdness? And Tahmoh Penikett's appearance as Linden's ex? Head to the comments to discuss and debate.

On the season finale of The Killing ("Orpheus Descending"), a twist in the polls and a death causes grief in the campaign; Sarah and Holder discover the murderer of Rosie Larsen and while doing so, cause a problem; Stan is released from jail and comes home to find no one in the house.

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Will the 2011-12 television season be a winner or another dud?

Over at The Daily Beast, my fellow Daily Beast staffer Maria Elena Fernandez and I offer our first impressions of more than 30 network pilots--from Awake and Ringer to Alcatraz and Work It--coming to TV next season.

You can check out our he said/she said-style thoughts in my latest feature, entitled "TV Preview: Snap Judgments of 2011-2012's New Shows."

Which fall or midseason show are you most excited about? And which are you most dreading? Head to the comments section to discuss, and see whether you agree with our first impression take on more than 30 broadcast network pilots. Did your potential favorite make the must-see list?

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J.J. Abrams' Super 8 falls into some of the same traps as his other projects, setting up expectations of mysteries it can't possibly fulfill.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled "Super 8: Stop Being So Secretive, J.J.," in which I offer a memo to Abrams and discuss why the director needs to move on.

And, just in case you haven't yet seen Super 8, I'll offer up the following caveat. WARNING: Contains spoilers!

What do you think? Has J.J. Abrams outgrown the mystery box? Does he need to stop cloaking his projects in such shrouds of secrecy that audiences come to expect the delivery of a major twist or surprise reveal that he's setting himself up to fail? Head to the comments section to discuss.

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Fly, fly away, little bird.

Just like that, the stakes of George R.R. Martin's world became even higher, the pain even more intense, and the searing sense of loss all the more unbearable. These are cruel times that the Starks and their enemies find themselves. The quality of mercy, as we know, is not strained... but there are often greater reasons to restrain oneself from enacting punishment upon others. Sometimes the open hand is the wiser council than the keen edge of a blade.

The cost of life--and the folly of youthful, headstrong kings--is keenly felt in the latest episode of HBO's Game of Thrones ("Baelor"), written by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss and directed by Alan Taylor, which depicts one of the most shocking moments within the first season of the adaptation.

For those of us who have read the novels, it didn't come as a surprise, but I will say that I was watching this with my wife--who has remained wholly unspoiled about any plot developments within the novels--and she not only gasped aloud, but started to cry.

And, as the Valyrian steel flew down onto the neck of Eddard Stark, I'll admit that I shed a few tears of my own as well. Ned was a dead man the second he set foot on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor that day, but that doesn't diminish the horror of his passing, mercifully not glimpsed by his daughter Arya, thanks to the intervention of Yoren.

The juxtaposition of Ned's gruesome end and Arya wringing the neck of a plump pigeon seems too intentional to be mere coincidence, given the untimely ends of both man and animal. Nor is it coincidence that what Arya sees, rather than her father's head falling to the ground after Ser Ilyn swings [Ned's] greatsword [Ice], is a flock of birds in the sky, flying away. Is Arya a little bird bound to fly away? Had it not been for Yoren, she would have likely cut her way through the crowd to Ned, killing them both in the process. But just as Arya doesn't have to see her father die, so too does Ned go to his grave, believing that his daughter is safe, that she hasn't had to witness firsthand the tyranny of evil kings, the vengeful wrath of the crowned man.

Ned's death proves, more than any other to date, that no character within Game of Thrones is safe and that the showrunners and Martin himself seem to relish the opportunity to pull the rug out from underneath the viewer. There's something to be said for the shocking nature of these twists, from the removal of Ned Stark, the series' putative hero, from the board. If Ned can be killed, so too can anyone else. Joffrey's myopia is what we're left with as Arya contemplates a life without her father in it, and Ned's head leaves his shoulders. Even Cersei seems horror-stricken at what he has done, just as her beloved twin brother Jaime Lannister falls into Robb's hands after the Battle of the Whispering Wood. (It leaves only Sansa as their last remaining bargaining chip.)

There's little difference between the juvenile pleasure Joffrey gets in stunning his mother, Pycelle, Sansa, and everyone by commanding Ser Ilyn to behead Ned, and that of Lord Robin gleefully announcing his intentions to see the little man fly. Both foolish boys who have yet to see the value of life and the finality of death. But Joffrey takes his ego too far, spilling blood in one of the most sacred places in all the Seven Kingdoms: right outside the Great Sept of Baelor. It's a sin that is an affront to the very gods themselves, and a bad omen of the blackest kind.

Elsewhere, the Lannisters think they've got Robb by the short hairs, but they learn that the young wolf is a cunning adversary, sacrificing 2000 men in order to divert attention away from the real battle, in which he seizes Jaime Lannister as his prize. I'm glad that the writers stuck to the novel's device of not showing us the pivotal Battle of the Whispering Wood, but letting the tension remain with the steadfast Catelyn, waiting for word of her son.

My only complaint--which seems to be a season-long one--is that we're again missing the direwolves. I don't know that we've even seen Robb's wolf, Grey Wind, at all, and his absence is keenly felt in the battle scenes. (My overall complaint of the show, one I've shared time and time again, is that we don't really get a sense of the emotional/spiritual rapport between the Starks and their wolves, a fact that may become even more worrisome as the series wears on.)

Meanwhile, my suspicions that the character of Ros was being groomed as a composite of Shae was revealed to be completely off the mark this week, as we see the introduction of camp follower Shae here, who quickly becomes Tyrion's sexed-up shadow. I loved that Tyrion is injured by his own men and misses the entire battle, and has to ask Bronn if they won. We're also given further insight into Tyrion's backstory via his harrowing and awful account of his brief marriage to Tysha, which shows not only his innate loneliness but also the cruelty of his Lannister clansmen, particularly that of his father Tywin. While Dinklage's accent seemed a bit iffy this week, I can't imagine anyone other than him in this role and he continues to remind me of why Tyrion is such a beloved character in Martin's novels.

And then there was Daenerys, who stood up to Qotho and tried to save the life of Drogo by enlisting the help of black magic. There's a sense of perversion about the use of blood magic here, which sullies the entire khalassar just as much as Joffrey's murder of Ned Stark destroys the sanctity of the sept. But Dany is desperate to save Drogo by any means necessary, even as her position within the tribe becomes perilously tenuous. But with any dark magic, there is always a price to pay, as the maegi tells Dany. It's not her life that is forfeit, but it's especially telling that she's injured in a fall when Qotho pushes her to the ground on her stomach. (Not a good thing to happen to a pregnant woman.)

I loved the battle between Qotho and Ser Jorah, which illustrated perfectly the pros and cons of the Westerosi armor and the Dothraki arakh: while Qotho is able to slash at Jorah's face, the arakh becomes caught in Jorah's armor when Qotho goes in for the kill... allowing Jorah to open him up with his broadsword. But it may be too late for Daenerys and for her unborn child by that point. While Jorah carries Daenerys, perhaps to her salvation, one can't escape the horror that is unfolding within Drogo's tent: the unnatural sounds and shapes that emanate from the other side of the canvas walls.

Daenerys is stronger than anyone realizes, really... She is the blood of the dragon, one of the last of her kind. But as we learned this week, there is another dragon clinging to life, hiding in plain sight for the last 100 years: Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch is one of the last Targaryens alive, and many decades earlier he renounced his claim to the throne and sought the chains of a maester at the Citadel instead. He tries to show Jon that one must choose family or honor, but it's not always possible to choose both, and that their true duty is to the fellowship they pledged to serve for life. But it's impossible not to think of what might have been, had Aemon sat the Iron Throne instead of his brother. Would the Mad King have come to power? Would Stark and Baratheon clashed swords with House Targaryen? Would the Starks now be howling against the lions of Lannister?

What might have been? What could have been? But as the sword meets bone, a little girl looks to the sky and sees only a flock of birds in flight. For Arya and for the others, the what ifs of imagination and hindsight no longer apply. We can run or we can fight. And sometimes that decision is made for us.

What did you think of "Baelor"? Did this week's episode live up to your expectations? Were you surprised by the death of Ned Stark? What was your reaction? Head to the comments to discuss and debate.

Next week on Game of Thrones ("Fire and Blood"), a new king rises in the north; a Khaleesi finds new hope.

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While HBO hasn't shied away from abundant sex in the Game of Thrones books (even amping it up), the presence of rape within George R.R. Martin's novels has been nearly eliminated.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled "Game of Thrones' Sexual Politics," in which I examine why sex and violence, but not sexual violence, has played out on the show—and why some viewers and critics are angry.

Do you agree with the assessment? Head to the comments section to discuss and debate, but remember: keep it fair.

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"When you look at me, do you see a hero?" - Varys

William Shakespeare's Portia said it best in The Merchant of Venice: "The quality of mercy is not strained/It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven." That is, mercy can't be forced; it's either a natural inclination or it isn't. Do you lean towards the pointy end of the sword or the open palm of mercy? Do you enact vengeance or forgiveness? Do you tread meekly or engage your enemy?

In this week's episode of Game of Thrones ("The Pointy End"), written by George R.R. Martin and directed by Daniel Minahan, the notion of mercy hovered over the action as viewers saw multiple characters grapple with the questions above. Daenerys attempts to stop her bloodriders from taking their spoils of war when they encounter the sheep people, preventing the women of the tribe from being "honored" by the Dothraki on the ground. Robb chooses to free a Lannister scout rather than redden his blade with the boy's blood. Sansa begs Joffrey to spare the life of her traitor father... who is of course imprisoned because he too chose the open hand, opting to tell Cersei what he knew about her children, rather than bringing the truth of Joffrey's parentage to the king.

He now rots in the dungeons of the Red Keep, with only the spiders and Varys (the one true spider) to keep him company. Was he naive or foolhardy? Should he have sided with Renly? Should he have learned from the cautionary tale of Jon Arryn and kept his mouth shut?

Of course, the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros have gone topsy-turvy. Ned is attacked in the open street because his wife has seized the Imp. Robb, barely out of boyhood, looks to engage the Lannisters on the open field, with a host behind him. Corpses spring to life and move with unnatural speed. Something is amiss, it would seem. Winter is coming, after all.

The Starks always prove to be right on that account, it seems. Winter does always come eventually, wiping away the smiles of summer, just as Death comes for every man in the end. It's a lesson that unites Arya Stark and Syrio Forel, her "dancing master," whose skill as a swordsman (the First Sword of Braavos, in fact) comes in handily here. The only thing a man can say to Death, according to Syrio, is "not today." While we hope that the winter doesn't come, all things must come to an end eventually, even summertime. Syrio faces down a certain death with naught but a wooden sword and manages to take down several knights before his blade is broken. But his sacrifice is in service to a greater good: to protect his protege and allow her to escape a possible death.

Kudos to the fantastic Miltos Yerolemou for delivering a staggering performance here, allowing us to see the grace and speed of Syrio, his mastery with a sword and his unyielding nature in the face of impossible odds. Syrio's small stature belies his true nature as a giant among men, a fierce force to be reckoned with, and a true savior to Arya Stark. The way the scene in even shot heightens the sense of uneven odds between Syrio and the knights, swooping upwards from the ground to show just how little both Syrio and Arya are in the face of these armored behemoths. Yet, that's the magic of what Syrio has been teaching Arya: seeing, rather than just looking, catching cats in the shadows, etc. Syrio's day of reckoning is upon him, and he faces Death, sword in hand and dying in the heat of battle. A hero's death, really.

Will the same be said for Ned Stark? Imprisoned beneath the keep, he's been removed from the playing field altogether, a pawn rather than a player. His effort to show mercy to Cersei, inherent in his character, signs his death warrant, in way. By confronting her openly, Ned allows the Queen ample time to plot a defense, to enact a plot to ensure that Joffrey stays on the throne and to conceal her secret once more. A different man would have had her arrested and brought before King Robert in chains, but Ned is a true nobleman, a chivalrous believer in the codes that govern society. He's out of his depth completely in King's Landing, not used to dealing with manipulation and machination, but rather the forwardness of Northern men like the Greatjon.

It's interesting here that Sansa Stark is rendered more sympathetic than she is in the novels. In Martin's book, Sansa is directly responsible for her father's current situation, having gone to Cersei to tell her of the plot her father was looking to broker with Stannis Baratheon. (She blames him for both the death of Lady, and for the fact that he would take her away from her betrothed.) Here, however, she's far more guileless, an innocent whose anger at her father is sublimated entirely upon hearing of his incarceration. When she begs Joffrey and Cersei for mercy, she means to save his life out of love and not a sense of guilt, which doesn't carry over from the books. Given that Martin himself adapted this episode, it seems a clear narrative choice to keep Sansa remaining a sympathetic character, rather than a spoilt hellion as she appears at the end of "A Game of Thrones." Which is a good thing, really, for a television series such as this one, as sometimes the edges need to be sanded down a bit in order to give the viewers some characters to root for.

Elsewhere, Dany sought to enact her own mercy upon the slaves taken by the Dothraki. While money is no object to the riders, they are after coin for their planned invasion of Westeros... and the spoils of war that are taken are in her name. However, Dany refuses to let the women of the sheep people be raped or tortured at the hands of her khal, forcing her husband's bloodriders to intervene and save the life of a maegi and her fellow womenfolk, taking them as her tributes. While Dany acts out of good intentions, the road to hell, as we well know, is paved with such trinkets. In the argument that follows, Khal Drogo is sliced open by one of his riders' arakhs. While he says it is nothing more than the bite of a fly, we know better than that, don't we? And there's the maegi herself, ready with healing ointments and smoke, to save the life of the khal whose people just destroyed her settlement and enslaved her people.

Which begs the question: does mercy ever have a place in Westeros and Essos? In such a brutal world, is mercy an outdated concept? Is it better to slay one's enemy than allow them to live to fight another day? The Lannisters know nothing of such things: they slay every member of the Stark household. They give no quarter, no opportunity to regroup, to heal one's wounds and strike back. Ned shows Cersei mercy and she arranges for everyone he came down to King's Landing with to be butchered where they stand. Robb allows the scout to leave and spill word of how many soldiers he has, but that might have been cunning rather than weak. Dany tries to save the women of the sheep tribes, but it's Dothraki blood that's spilt that day.

But while everyone has their sights on the Iron Throne, no one is seeing what is truly happening in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. Summer snows fall on the Riverlands and the dead walk among us, as Jon Snow and Lord Commander Mormont discover. It's Ghost who alerts Jon to the danger in Castle Black as the Night's Watch sleeps, pawing at the door and leading him to Mormont's chambers, where a dead Brother of the Night's Watch springs back to "life" and tries to kill them both. The weapons of men can't stop this dread wight, but fire can. Could it be that the white walkers are on the move? That these wights are the result of encountering the mythical creatures, roused from their slumber after thousands of years? Is the wildling Osha right?

Perhaps the high lords and ladies shouldn't be so focused on the game of thrones they're forever playing but on the true threats to the kingdom, to the things that lurk beyond the Wall. For Winter is coming, and with it terrible, unspeakable things...

Next week on Game of Thrones ("Baelor"), Ned makes a fateful decision; Robb takes a prized prisoner; Daenerys finds her reign imperiled.

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