BLOGGING GAME OF THRONES, S3E2: Love And Warg

Game Of Thrones gets topical! As if there weren't enough reasons to hate King Ladyboy--this week we learn he also wants to ban homosexual acts like some kind of two bit South Dakota state legislator. Of course, he's talking about it while stroking his crossbow and talking to Marge, she of the freaky-deaky incest threeway floated last season, so take that whole scene however you will. Gay rights come up again later, when Jamie tells Brienne he knew about Renly's DL situation and was cool with it. Hey, well, hands off to you, Jamie. You're a stand-up guy. On this one issue, anyway. 

Anyway last time I peacefully accepted that we'd have to endure a bit of shifting around before the parts really got moving--such is life in Westeros. But I didn't think we'd have to deal with a whole 'nother HOUR of shufflin' this week! Will somebody just get to killing somebody else already? I mean, SHIT. Even god damned Theon is still alive, so technically we're at -2 for this season. There wasn't even any nudity in this episode. WHAT GIVES? Can we get some (lack of a) civilization, here?

Dany and her slaves and Jon Swanson and his morals are all absent from this episode, but at least we check in with Bran, Arya, and the armformentioned Jamie. All of them are still wandering the woods with their respective friends/guards from last season, and this week all of them are captured or otherwise overtaken by people we've never seen before. Poor Lil' Katniss--out of the frying pan and into the oven and out of the oven and into the blender and out of the blender and onto the hotplate, am I right? She's really getting Drunk Kitchened something fierce. This new batch of people she'll escape from sooner or later are the Brotherhood--the ones O'Brien was so desperately seeking by way of rat-bucket torture back in Harrenhall (a few dozen Arya-captors ago). They actually seem like OK dudes, especially the Jeff Daniels-looking motherfucker, Thoros of Myr. But when one of them captures The Hound and he informs them she's Arya Stark, well, that's a game changer, ladies!

Meanwhile Bran et al. are set upon in the woods by Shane Bogwin and his sister, a couple of mystical weirdos who apparently have the power to incept Bran and who want to help him realize the extent of his powers (his "dark magic dreams," as Osha calls them). Yep, Bran is changing, and I'm not just referring to the fact that AWWWW SOMEBODY'S VOICE DROPPED! Welcome to manhood, Bonus Jonas! Getting the birds and bees talk from Hodor is gonna be pretty rough, huh?

Jamie and Brienne also get captured, by that weasel-looking British character actor, you know the one. No, not that one. Not that one. Not that one, but he's in this episode too. Not that one. Yeah, that guy! He captures them, but I'm sure he'll unhand them sooner or later. 

What else? Tyrion and Lisbeth Salander bicker cutely. Somebody's kidnapped Theon and are torturing him, and somebody else says he'll save him (his whole story is so hopelessly vague that I don't even care). Cat Stark's father dies, and she and Robb set out for his funeral. Cat tells Robb's wife a story about the time she wished Jon Snow would die and he almost did and she felt really shitty about it, but then went back on her promise to the gods that if they spared him, she'd treat him like a son. Yikes. Up north of the wall, Jon Snow and Mance Rayder have a conversation to remind viewers that his name is Mance Rayder and that they are north of the wall.

The key scene of this episode is a conversation that takes place between Sansa and Lady Olenna, the truth-spittin' matriarch of the Loras family. She and Marge get Sansa to give them the dirt about what a sadistic fuck Joffrey is, but hearing it seems to upset neither of them. Sansa is bewildered, Zac is intrigued. (I will say though--this scene in the book had me cackling with joy at Lady Olenna's crotchety truth bombs, and here I was a little underwhelmed. Maybe it's because I was picturing Lady Olenna as this lady.) 

BLOGGING GAMES OF THRONES, S3E1: Paint A Vulgar Picture

Hey gang! Welcome back to Westeros, where the slots are loose, the women are friendly, and--just a stone's throw away, down at the docks in Astapor--somebody is usually stabbing a baby! I'm your host, Zachary Little, and here's where our players are at in this third inning of America's new pastime,  Throne Gaming.

We pick up above the wall, where we last saw an army of abominable skeletor-type motherfuckers descending upon poor Samwise Gangrene. Lucky for him, he somehow managed to escape, and here is reunited with the surviving members of the Night's Watch. They're looking worse for wear, though not necessarily more than usual. Jon Snow's second surrogate father, Old Beardo, immediately berates Samwise for failing to send warning messages back home. Well, if we're being honest, I'm not really sure anybody in Westeros would have given a shit. Undead armies are like Climate Change to Westerosi politicos--they won't believe in it until it literally kills them personally.

Nonetheless, the remaining Watchmen head south, determined to warn the public about the white walkers which are, I'd have to assume, further south than they are this point anyway. Right? So this might not be the soundest plan.

Further North, Jon Snow, now a sorta-double agent among the Wildlings, meets his third surrogate father, Mance Rayder. He's the King Beyond The Wall, but for a king he's pretty casual--when Jon Snow gets all kneely and worshipful Mance is like, "Bro, chill." But Mance would like to know why Jon went rogue, and Jon gives him an only semi-sensical explanation that involves being mad at Beardo for abiding Daughter Fucker's (remember Daughter Fucker?) child sacrifice. Now, the point of that earlier scene was recognizing the necessity of bargaining in real-world political environments, so I guess that means Jon Snow is a libertarian now. Which is good enough for Mance Rayder, so OK.

Back in the civilized world, Tyrion is admiring his Michael K. Williams-style facial scar in a mirror when Queen (Regent) Eyebrow comes a-knocking. We are reminded of three things: 1. Tyrion is displaced and in disfavor now that his father has finally taken over as Hand of the King 2. Tyrion's wound did not come from a legitimate enemy but rather from a Lannister loyalist, and 3. Tyrion and Cercei like to trade quips. Then Bronn shows up, and you know, is a baller.

And then--guess who is alive? Theon? Nope, probably not! But Ron Swanson's grandfather is! Last we saw him, a boat full of fire-kryptonite was blowing up directly in front of his face, so it's pretty crazy that he managed to survive, but there you are, and there he is! Black Jack Sparrow finds him shortly after we do, picking him up from the comically small island on which he has been stranded. Then he tries to talk him out of returning to Stannis--the would-be king is in a bad mood since his bad defeat, and the Red Lady has gone full Yoko--but Jon Swanson is determined to see his bro again. And guess what? It doesn't go very well. After a half-assed attempt at assassinating Redhead Von Shadowpussy, Jon Swanson finds himself dragged to the dungeons. Oh well!

At the end of season 2, we got a couple of scenes that played like do-overs, like the writers felt like they hadn't drilled something home enough and tried again. Dany had a few speeches where she made identical self-discoveries, etcetera. Here we get another mulligan, when Robb Stark, his men, his new wife, and his mom come upon a Stark fort and find everybody inside dead. This sight apparently reminds Robb that his mother freed Jamie Lannister, and he orders her to a cell. Did you actually like, forget, Robb? We got no scenes with Arya and Gendry for this?

Back in King's Landing, Tyrion talks to his dad, who is, it turns out, a major dick. Remember when he and Arya were having all that cat and mouse fun back in Harrenhall? None of that here. Just unabashed dickishness, nothing more. And speaking of unabashed dicks, Joffrey is mortified when his newly betrothed, Margaery, gets out of her litter in the middle of a dirty street to go visit some orphans. At dinner later, he and his mother are baffled to hear that Marge and her brother One Direction do charity work routinely. "Wait, you help poor people? For WHAT? I mean, they can't give you any money, can they?"-Lannisters

Elsewhere, Dany and her dragons visit a slaveport, which appears to be Ser Jorah's idea. He thinks slavery is like, the coolest thing since sliced bread, but it makes Dany uneasy. Still, she's got no other way to gather an army (does she even have this way? Like, where'd she get money?) so she listens to the sales pitch of guy selling eunuch soldiers called "The Unsullied." Their training regimen, it turns out, basically consists of all the censored scenes from the NIN video for "Closer." And it seems to work; as Offer Shlomi points out, you can chop a nipple off these guys and they don't even flinch. Dany could fuck some shit up in a big way with a few thousand of these guys, which might be interesting. As she walks back to the dock, she survives another murder attempt, this time from a little J-horror girl probably sent from whoever is still alive in Qarth. She is saved by Some Guy, who turns out to be a character we should maybe remember from earlier? He introduces himself like, "Yes, mother of dragons, it is I, Some Guy!" and the music swells like Ohhhh! Some Guy has finally appeared! And the episode ends.

So that's that! No Lil Katniss, nor Bonus Jonas, nor Huck Lannister and Lady Brienne on their raft, nor Meltyface, nor Fucking Theon (RIP?). Not a whole lot happening at all, right now, in fact! But that is how the game is played. You gotta take some time to move the pieces into place before the pieces can have sex with and murder each other. As true in chess as it is in life. See you next week!

ASK NICK SULLIVAN: Letters To Esquire's Fashion Director, Answered By Zac Little

Is wearing an undershirt necessary when wearing a dress shirt? I really don’t like seeing the outline of my undershirt under my dress shirt. –Bryan Erskine, Fountain Valley CA

Ah yes, the age-old “upper commando” question. Ruling out the possibility that you’re a chimp who was raised as a human and this discomfort at being civilized is the beginning of a series of revelations about the true nature of your past, I’d advise you to deal with it. A little wife-beater show-through is kind of charming, no? It’s at least more charming than your weird nipples. Who invited your weird nipples to the office, Bryan? That’s right: nobody. So keep the salami slices in the deli paper.


I’m a middle-aged guy going on a cruise, and I need to wear a jacket and tie at dinner each night. What do you recommend? –Steve Volkman, Vancouver WA

First of all: what kind of jerkoff Dixiecrat bullshit cruise is this? You have to wear a jacket and tie at dinner? Not a mustard-stained Acapulco shirt, as God intended? WHERE DO YOU GET OFF, VOLKMAN? (I’m honestly asking. WHERE DO YOU GET OFF AND WALK AROUND FOR 2 HOURS REC AND MEAL TIME?)

If I were you I’d go to dinner in just a jacket and tie, nothing else, in protest of that silly policy. But I’m not you—and THANK GOD for that, you wouldn’t catch me DEAD on a cruise line, especially given recent events. In fact, I suggest you wear a toilet paper jacket with a tie made of insulin bottles. It very well might come in handy.


I’m entering my second year of grad school. Can you get me started on a professional-looking wardrobe within a tight budget that’s both comfortable and a little casual? I’d like to get a few blazers, but beyond that I’m clueless. –Matthew Marant, Lafayette LA 

Well Matthew, it really depends what you’re in grad school for. If it were business, you wouldn’t be asking me. You’d already have some bizarre older male mentor from a previous or current internship—one who took you out to dinner and told you how to order your steak, who showed you how to dress and even bought clothes for you, who brought you to the sauna on Fridays and had angry sex with you in the locker room (but not in a gay way. In a “business insider” way). And if you were in Law school it’d pretty much be the same deal, except you’d go to the sauna on Thursdays.

So, what is it then? How could you, at this stage in the game, still be unclear on what was expected of you in the professional realm? Oh fuck! Matthew, are you majoring in… the humanities?! Dear god. Well, you can skip the blazer and invest heavily in pajamas, then.

I am a 23-year-old student and I will be attending my first engagement party. The dress is “cocktail/casual,” and I’m not sure what that means. –Thomas Evers, Athens, GA 

Well, let’s get a little more specific here. What exactly is your context in this whole engagement milieu? Did you have a brief, torrid affair with an older woman the summer after you graduated college? Is she, now dating a more age-appropriate man, inviting you to her engagement party as some kind of either conciliatory or passive-aggressive gesture? Are you not sure how you feel?

Or, is it a shotgun wedding? I’m saying, did your wildest friend’s sexual misadventures finally catch up to him? Did he knock up the judge’s daughter, say? Are you and your crazy pals trying to have one last hurrah before adulthood and solemnity comes a-knocking, perhaps?

Or is one of your parents engaged? Is this perhaps a second or third marriage for your father, or mother? Are all of your family tensions, long simmering, about to boil over?

To put it another way: is this your first novel, second novel, or an essay collection?

• First novel: Wear a linen suit, dress shirt with no tie, and a colorful pocket square.
• Second novel: Wear a tuxedo t-shirt and jeans. 
• Essay collection: Wear all black, and don’t forget to put a digital recorder in your pocket. The New Yorker fact-checkers are no joke.

I was taught that my leather (belt, shoes, etc.) should match. What’s the score? –Mark Holk, Barnes WI

You are correct sir! The SAME COW law of men’s fashion is one of the oldest, and therefore most prestigious, rules. (The US Senate rules are mostly based on the first edition of Esquire’s Blackbook—the Spring 2013 edition of which is in stores now!) Of course, it’s pretty hard to be sure that your belt and shoes match EXACTLY, but DNA testing is getting cheaper every day.

In THE KING’S SPEECH Colin First wears a necktie through most of the film and leaves about a half inch of the shirt showing. Was this the style of the era or a quirky personal statement? –Michael Monroe, Bellevue WA

Firstly: SPOILER ALERT, dude. Secondly: that was your takeaway from the movie? You didn’t learn about overcoming adversity and rising to meet your destiny? Focus up, Monroe! Thirdly: Colin Firth. That man can wear a sweater, huh? Fourthly: what do you think I am, some kind of fashion historian? Fuck you.

The First Supercut Is The Deepest

So I have been kind of gradually formulating a manifesto? About creating video content? I don't know. I might be on the verge or making some kind of Dogme95 type declaration. Here's where it started:

"I SAW THE BEST MINDS OF MY GENERATION DESTROYED BY SUPERCUTS"

And then:

CLARIFICATION 1: Question From Dangokuken

CLARIFICATION 2: Question from anonymous

"DIGGING DEEPER"

But here's the gist, if you'd rather: The current internet economy favors effort over creativity--a breathtakingly completist supercut of a TV show over an original idea of any kind. And the reward one gets for say, watching 80 hours of a TV show and editing together a three minute web video, is already subject to steeply diminishing returns. A year ago it would have gotten you a job at a pop culture blog; six months ago it would have gotten you millions of pageviews and Tumblr followers; now you can win a contest. But it's still better than NOTHING, in terms of compensation, which is why so many people do it instead of creating something new. And that's bad.

But maybe this is the most visible symptom of a disease that has spread or maybe always existed among content creators. Maybe effort over creativity has always been an issue. I started to think about the way I feel about my own work, which is that I have always been happier figuring things out for myself rather than learning the "right way." I have always resisted learning to mic and light my shots the way I was "supposed to." And even though that has never been the financially sound path, it has always been creatively fulfilling. Most of the time, and maybe this is  only in retrospect, it has helped me create work that is, to my mind (and a few others!), distinctive and at least approaching original. Which is why I am happy with my modest web presence and interesting (and creative in their own right, in many cases) fans and friends (fanfriends? Can that be a thing?). 

And yeah, so this is a dynamic that has ever been thus in terms of entertainment--slick blockbusters make vastly more money than weird, alienating (but deeply original) smaller films. But this is the Internet, a place where all of those former structures were supposed to break down and die. Instead, the norms have just perpetuated and even become more acute. Which is a drag.

But anyway, if you are a content creator frustrated by your lack of e-success, at least know that I, Zac Little, think you are probably doing something right. 

The best creative lesson I can give anybody is this: don't learn anything from anyone. Not even me. Don't even listen to this! Just go fuck around in your basement with a camera for a couple years. Burn your local film school (?) to the ground. (OK: I learned a lot of the basics from a wonderful man named Peter Pijoan at a Public Access TV station in Wolfeboro, NH. You should learn about as much as I did. From him, preferably. But if he is not available, go to film school for ONE YEAR. And then burn that fucker to the ground when you're done.) As Bobcat Goldthwait recently said: "Success is for creeps." At least for now. Maybe we can do something to correct this effort and creativity imbalance. Maybe stop clicking on supercuts of people saying "supercuts" in different movies or whatever. At least as a start. 

Aaron Sorkin's Script For The Social Network Was Smarter Than You Thought

The Social Network was controversial--among nerds, mostly--when it was released, for its, let's say assholish, portrayal of Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg. Nolo contendere there, but amid all the bluster and blog posts, I don't think a lot of people noticed that the movie was perfectly aware what it was doing. What I mean to say is: Not only is the negative portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network deliberate, but so is the suggestion that the negative portrayal might be too harsh. Rather than attempt to be objective, The Social Network makes a Rashomon-esque joke about the very idea of objectivity. After all: Mark is not telling his own story. That's more important than many seemed to think. Bear with me for a second here.

The movie opens with that long, weirdly compelling scene in the bar. Jesse Eisenberg and Lisbeth Salander break up. Then The Zuck walks back to his dorm, and we're put in geographical and chronological context for the first (and, significantly, the only!) time--Harvard 2003 or whenever. The story goes on from there for a good long while--including the world's first (and, significantly, the only!) realistic blogging and coding montage. And suddenly we jump ahead to a courtroom. Zuckerberg's Facebook isn't a fledgling idea now, suddenly, it's the billion-dollar enterprise we know and loathe. It's a rather jarring flashforward, right? That's not all it is.

Now, Aaron Sorkin frequently plays around with chronology in his scripts, usually for fairly simple storytelling purpose: President Bartlet takes a bite of a madeline and remembers the last time he took a bite of a madeline, during his campaign. So now we get to see some campaign scenes! And for a few viewings I took the structural complexity of The Social Network at that basic face-value. 20 minutes is as long as Aaron Sorkin can stand going without a courtroom scene, that's all. But after the fourth viewing or so, I picked up on a key moment: There in the courtroom, when everyone else is talking about Mark crashing Harvard's network, Mark instead is referencing his conversation with Erica at the bar--that very first scene of the movie. Here's how it looks in Sorkin's original screenplay:

What we're meant to understand, therefore, is that everything we've seen leading up to this moment is testimony from one or both of Mark's ongoing legal proceedings. The court scene isn't a flashforward, it is the only objective reality of the movie. Everything else we see is just a visualization of what people are saying.

This may seem like just an overcomplicated phrasing of the way you already understood the time-shifting. But what I'm saying is there are two different kinds of capital-T Truths at play in the movie. The Truth of whatever moment you happen to be in (Mark and Eduardo in the dorm, the Winkelvoss twins in England) and then the Overall Truth perspective of the movie (every non-courtroom scene is the depiction of various folks' depositions). And most of the criticism I've read of the movie acknowledges the former and not the latter.

And the confirmation of the film's overall perspective happens in the final scene, when Mark talks to Rashida Jones's character. She tells him that she assumes most testimony is, in so many words, hearsay and bullshit. That is what we have been watching for the last two hours: the unreliable, emotional bullshit being pushed by the Winkelvi, Eduardo and their associated council. It doesn't vindicate Mark so much as admit that we--you, me, Aaron Sorkin, David Fincher, Justin Timberlake--don't know the truth about anything that happened. All we have is the public record, which is no more true than anything else.

That's the same idea behind Akira Kurosawa's film Rashomon, which I suggest you seek out immediately if you haven't already seen it. But while Rashomon takes the lack of true objectivity as cause for despair, The Social Network seems to revel in it, a little. So what if this is all hearsay and bullshit? It's fun, right?