By the time HBO was airing the second season of Game of Thrones in 2012, it had become enough of a phenomenon to warrant a Saturday Night Live parody. In the sketch, Andy Samberg plays Adam Friedberg, the show's "creative consultant," a 13-year-old boy who tells the producers that there should be more boobs in every scene. The joke? Game of Thrones could have very well been written by tweens for all the random naked ladies it contained.
But times changed, and by the time Thrones wrapped up in 2019, sex had taken a backseat to Whitewalkers and dragons and questionable plotting. So it was easy to assume that the prequel series House of the Dragon, which debuts Aug. 21, would maybe forgo the errant nudity and random brothel scenes for something a little more buttoned-up. But when I watched, I found Matt Smith giving a speech while a couple paused their doggy-style coitous to listen to him. Sex—the silly kind—is back in the Thrones universe, and, honestly, I’m grateful.
House of the Dragon launches Thrones fans about two centuries prior to the start of George R.R. Martin's initial juggernaut. Viserys Targaryen (Paddy Considine) is on the Iron Throne, much to the dismay of his cousin Rhaenys Velaryon (Eve Best). His brother Daemon (Matt Smith) is a born troublemaker, serving as Lord Commander of the City Watch, which, in his mind, essentially means terrorizing the citizens of King’s Landing. Viserys has a potentially scheming Hand, Otto Hightower (Rhys Ifans), whose daughter Alicent (Emily Carey, in youth) is BFFs with Viserys’ own kid Rhaenyra (Milly Alcock).
The beauty of House of the Dragon is that it feels like classic Thrones before the series—which was shepherded by showrunners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss—got bogged down trying to tie up all its loose ends. It’s bitchy, it’s gross, and, yes, there are boobs. There’s also at least one severed penis, but who’s counting?
As far as the pilot goes, the nastiest bits revolve around Smith’s Daemon, a younger brother with an inferiority complex, whose name is a bit on the nose given all the trouble he’s about to cause. He hangs out in brothels with the sex worker Mysaria (Sonoya Mizuno), his lover and adviser. (In her brief appearance in the first episode, she gives off Melisandre vibes.) Daemon uses his position as Lord Commander to viciously attack innocent bystanders, and is the kind of guy who gets really competitive when jousting.
He’s both overcompensating and oversexed, and, like Littlefinger before him, tends to do business in houses of ill-repute, thus giving the audience the kind of background nudity that was its predecessor’s bread and butter. It’s the kind of titillation that I have grown to appreciate over time. The sex operates not just as a cheap thrill, but also as a visual gag. The women are beautiful; the men are horny fools.
The sexual content of Game of Thrones was always a mixed bag. While the random breasts were the subject of SNL gags, the consistent presence of sexual violence against women quickly became exasperating, and reached an enraging pinnacle in Season 5 when Sophie Turner's Sansa Stark was raped on her wedding night.
This ugly legacy has already yielded House of the Dragon controversy, thanks to a comment from showrunner Miguel Sapochnik, best known for directing blockbuster Thrones episodes like "Hardhome." He seemed to imply that the show would be rife with sexual violence against women due to historical accuracy—a lame excuse that didn’t make much sense given that it’s a fantasy series.
However, writer and executive producer Sara Hess took to Vanity Fair to clarify, saying “We do not depict sexual violence in the show,” and one instance is handled off screen. “I think what our show does, and what I’m proud of, is that we choose to focus on the violence against women that is inherent in a patriarchal system,” she said. During the premiere, that manifests in a bloody and brutal old age C-section, which Viserys requests knowing that it will kill his wife but could result in a male heir.
Up against this, the sex looks like comic relief. But Smith is already protesting that there’s too much of it. In an interview with the U.K. outpost of Rolling Stone, Smith himself seemed to be tired of all the boning his character is doing. “You do find yourself asking, ‘Do we need another sex scene?’” he said. “And they’re like, ‘Yeah, we do.’ I guess you have to ask yourself: ‘What are you doing? Are you representing the books, or are you diluting the books to represent the time [we’re living in]?’ And I actually think it’s your job to represent the books truthfully and honestly, as they were written.”
Smith’s and Sapochnik's arguments seem to be at odds: On one hand you can't do fake medieval without rape; on the other all the sex is just to satisfy modern audiences. Well? What is it, guys?
House of the Dragon enters a social media landscape where the nature of sex on screen is nearly constantly being debated, but also one where there’s a hunger for horniness that’s well-executed as evidenced by a renewed interest long-dormant erotic thriller. For the anti-sex crowd, House of the Dragon has already lost. But for those of us who like our fantasy with a touch of lasciviousness, Westeros beckons.
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