A Bad-Heir Day: The "House of the Dragon" Premiere Recap

 The "Game of Thrones" spinoff makes an effort to recreate the enchantment with sentimental details, family disputes, and gory delivery scenes.

Through nostalgic details, family disputes, and gory delivery scenes, the "Game of Thrones" spinoff strives to recreate the enchantment.

In the year of our fears, 2022, a brand-new "Game of Thrones" series has debuted to rescue us from our protracted "Thrones"-less winter. Should we follow it to where it's leading us? HBO's lavish prequel series "House of the Dragon," which is based on George R. R. Martin's "Fire and Blood," tells the tale of House Targaryen in a time before our familiar friends arrived—one hundred and seventy-two years before the Mad King's passing and the birth of his daughter Daenerys Targaryen, according to the opening titles. The year 172 B.D.T., as I refer to it, has many recognizable characteristics, such as dusty-colored towns and castles, chandeliers that mimic bonfires, oddly towheaded royal families, and the occasional orgie.

(Perhaps too infrequently; the show's balance of violence and vice ought to be tweaked.) There is a succession issue, as usual, and when an HBO series is driven by a succession crisis, we get hours of high-powered treachery to savor or endure.

Quickly, "Dragon" offers some of the beloved "Thrones" joys. The proclamation of Prince Viserys (Paddy Considine) as the next king takes place in a beautiful hall, as opposed to the dismal ice-monster scenario that "Thrones" used as the show's opening. Nine years into Viserys's reign, the action picks up when, following a charmingly recognizable credit sequence with no maps and just an amulet and the comforting beat of drums in the Ramin Djawadi style, an aerial symphony of clouds and the flap of leathery wings take us soaring over the Red Keep in King's Landing. Rhaenyra Targaryen, a dragon called Syrax that the king's teenage daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen (Milly Alcock), recently borrowed, dismounts with a brazen air of nonchalance. She throws her blonde strand aside and takes off her driving gloves as she counsels a weathered old knight, "Try not to seem so relieved."

It keeps my skull from being spiked every time that golden beast gives you back undamaged," he responds. Oh, Westeros, how we've missed your heads on spikes! Rhaenyra visits the extremely pregnant queen inside the palace with her friend Alicent Hightower ("This discomfort is how we serve the realm," she says, proud and grim), and then quickly dashes off to a meeting of the king and his advisors where, in true Arya fashion, she pours water for them while she listens to the discussions: Reports that begin, "We've all been reading over the moon charts," and a mention of the Crabfeeder, a pirate-punishing lunatic (Crustaceans are as disgusting and important to this series as leeches were to Melisandre in "Thrones").

We saw glimpses of some intriguing character growth in this episode: Rhaenyra's brilliance and her ambivalent status as a talented but underappreciated princess are expertly conveyed by Alcock, while Considine conveys a Ned Stark-like warmth and power mixed with a little case of regal incompetence. He enjoys delaying making major decisions and caring for his enormous model of the city that resembles a sandcastle while obsessively thinking about model trains. Many elements bring back memories, including the foolish, sword-obsessed Iron Throne, a lyrical young man named Samwell, and the majestic presence of soaring, screaming C.G.I. dragons.

(Have they always sounded like Wookiees?) And it's difficult not to appreciate a presentation when a dragon skull the size of a Humvee is surrounded by hundreds of flickering votive candles instead of rose petals and a proposal. The world-building of "Dragon," however, is lacking several narrative fundamentals that may greatly enhance it: youthful love, fascinating or entertaining unorthodox friendships, and well-planted seeds that produce appetizing results. The humor in the conversation is entirely unintentional: The monarch screams at a relative, "Laughing with your prostitutes and your lickspittles!" He is not Tyrion Lannister.

The ambitious, unsuccessful younger brother of Viserys is Daemon Targaryen (Matt Smith). He is a dragon rider, much like Rhaenyra, and, like her, he may be a contender for the Iron Throne. Not just anybody can fly such monsters. The relationship between Daemon and Rhaenyra, as well as Daemon's flaxen hair and his ever-squinting eyes, remind us of the Targaryens we are most familiar with: Daenerys and her brother Viserys, whose demise in "Thrones" caused us to cheer while he was splashed with molten gold. Although Daemon hasn't yet been as overtly unpleasant, we can see why no one would want him to rule; his orgies are only the beginning of the terrible feelings.

Meanwhile, King Viserys desires a male heir, as do all rulers. We get a touch of dread as his wife is in labor and he says "I love you" over her growing belly: it's all about the kid and this place is starting to resemble the Tower of London. The play then goes on to proudly contrast a birthing scene with jousting match action scenes; both exhibit irresponsibility with lives in the chase of power, and not in a funny way. The heir issue is still unresolved at the episode's conclusion, and its scope has begun to resemble a Shakespearean tragedy.

Despite its weaknesses, "Game of Thrones" was a Sunday night gem because of its people, comedy, overflowing intrigue and action, and crazy originality. A phenomenon that brought millions of people together at once to discuss a scene or specific detail, such as Jaime waving goodbye to Brienne of Tarth or the discovery of a missing dire wolf, or the exhilarating flight of a jerk through the Moon Door, was also one of the last embers of American monoculture. The show started in 2011, continued through the Trump administration, served as a pleasant diversion, and finished in 2019, just before the epidemic. It's difficult to approach "Dragon" without feeling both "Thrones" and "before-times" nostalgia; we want to recall the carefree escapism of those years.

Will we get fixated with the Crabfeeder after watching "House of the Dragon"? Its prospects would improve with some tweaking. Like the famed "Thrones" final season, "Dragon" doesn't always use the strengths of its narrative. For instance, the program emphasizes the suffering of its female characters more successfully than their uniqueness and vitality, despite the glitter of Rhaenyra's dragon flying. A neglected princess (Eve Best as Rhaenys Targaryen), whose eyes reflect bleak resignation, is known as the Queen Who Never Was. The series' emphasis on succession leads to birthing sequences whose regularity (stay tuned!) and howling anguish is like a horror-show twist on "Call the Midwife."

It will be interesting to watch if these personalities grow in depth or become more clearly defined. HBO has a priceless heritage, a committed domain, and great pressure to maintain it with "Dragon." The previous monarch was aware that "the only thing that could pull down the House of the Dragon was itself," according to Rhaenyra's voice-over. King, isn't that the truth?