George R.R. Martin's Curious Collection of Grotesqueries (1996 - present)
Disabled
With the premiere of House of the Dragon, HBO had its work cut out for it. Not only did it face direct competition from Amazon’s unprecedented Rings of Power –a monumental production of costly proportions with a five-season pre-order – it also had to contend with the reputation of its predecessor, Game of Thrones. GoT set a new bar for what a TV production could be, paving the way for RoP. More than that, its final season underperformed in a way not previously seen in a critically acclaimed television series.
Series finales are a tricky business. No matter how carefully handled, it seems that series with large fanbases are unlikely to come away with endings that fulfill the whims of everyone. Lost, Mad Men and The Sopranos saw notable complaints from fans regarding their endings. The GoT series finale proved a different monster with a critic's score of 55% on Rotten Tomatoes and an audience score even lower in the 30s. This was a notable fall from grace for a show consistently met with widespread acclaim for the bulk of its run until its tail end, in which its source content ran dry, and the creative reigns landed in the hands of two inexperienced showrunners.
For five consecutive seasons, the show stunned audiences, smashing streaming records and captivating audiences as it brought the high-fantasy tropes of dragons, battles, and strategized politics, to the late-night universe of corseted boobs, morally grey characters, and the darkest parts of humanity.
Whereas Amazons Rings of Power could be enjoyed by most of the family, Game of Thrones was undoubtedly a series to watch after the children were put to bed, a welcome change for those who grew up playing D&D and then enjoying what Skinemax had to offer in the wee hours of the morning.
Author George R.R. Martin’s writing of A Song of Ice and Fire (the series on which GoT is based) reflects the dynamism of our world, a complex tapestry in which nothing so simple as “good” prevails over “evil”. It is a world in which the “good” guy can die, the “bad” guy can be a knight in shining armor (or a powerful woman demolishing gender norms), and every expectation of conventional storytelling you have based on ratings can be upended.
To date, research shows the greatest drawing point for both fans of Thrones and ASOIAF readers has been Martin’s writing of the characters themselves: a lush and seemingly endless array of diverse beings far beyond what high-fantasy readers were used to from 20th-century authors.
A 2020 study for the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science of the USA analyzed the correlation between character arcs, deaths, and their relationships with readers. In this, the study found that the number of named characters within the series was nothing short of monumental, however, due to Martin’s habit of axing them off (pun intended), their deaths often occurred at the right time for the reader or watcher’s brain to develop a connection with a new character. Characters who were overall favorites (with rare exception) of course, tended not to die (Jon, Arya, Tyrion, etc.)
Other reasons many people tend to cite for their love of the series? It’s a realistic portrayal of morality, the inclusion of sexuality, a feasible depiction of racial diversity (there is work to be done yet on House of the Dragon, but that is a post for another time), war strategy, and for book readers, Martin’s well-written descriptions of food do often make for good home cookbooks.
As a master of crafting personable characters who are complex and layered, with the capacity to be beloved and hated (looking at you Bobby B.), Martin introduced us to a new era of high fantasy writing that was bolder, brasher, and more suited to the 1990s and emerging millennium. With the passage of 30 years, perhaps faults can be forgiven then as we recognize the ways in which so few of his disabled characters achieve this masterful crafting, and question what excuse there is for House of the Dragon, and the creative liberties taken in its writing during the Era of Inclusion and Intimacy Coaching.
This essay will examine the way three particular characters fall into different stereotypes often bestowed upon the disabled community. Each character has been picked from a different part of the ASOIAF universe and as such may not be known to the reader: extra background will be given for context.
Larys Strong (House of the Dragon/Fire & Blood)
The Clubfoot
The first spinoff to land on HBO to much fanfare has been House of the Dragon, an adaptation of Fire & Blood, which retells the bloody civil war between two factions of the Targaryan clan which all but ripped apart Westeros some 167 years prior to the events of Game of Thrones.
For those completely unfamiliar with the narrative, the war is initiated when King Viserys I (for all intents and purposes the polar opposite of Daenerys’ brother), failing for years to produce a male heir, names his daughter Rhaenyra as heir to the Iron Throne. Despite Viserys’ intentions, the power of the patriarchy rules from the shadows as everyone from his new wife (and daughter’s former best friend) to his advisors and those he formerly considered friends conspire to install his new (drunk and disorderly) son on the Iron Throne in Rhaenyra’s place.
Two separate factions arise. On Rhaenyra’s side The Blacks, composed of Rhaenyra, her children, her husband-uncle (Targaryans, remember) Daemon, their cousins the Valeryons, and a camp of other royal families. The Greens are led by Alicent Hightower (who has assumed her maiden name upon Viserys’ death more or less), her father and Hand of the King Otto Hightower), her son King Aegon II (who is a lot more like Dany’s brother), Helaena (think a goth Luna Lovegood), Aemond (if Annie from Attack on Titan was a guy), Ser Criston Cole (the head of the Kingsguard and Rhaenyra’s ex-beau with an obnoxious grudge), and Larys Strong.
Larys is known by book readers by another name: Larys Clubfoot, and this is how he is visually introduced on the show, limping into the godswood the very picture of the scheming disabled villain who has graced many a James Bond film.
CTEV or Clubfoot is a common deformity that in our modern world is of course rectified with earlier onset treatment. Larys walks with a cane and from the onset is presented in juxtaposition to his brother, Harwin Strong: a handsome and charming man who becomes an eventual illicit lover to Rhaenyra. Larys has no lovers the object of desire to none. In his introductory scene as he limps into the godswood he is something like a creature of prey to the young Alicent, approaching her with a proposal as he offers her help for a price of which the cost will not be apparent for some time to come.
Larys becomes one of Alicent’s most important council members, brokering information for her as well as executing covert assassinations of her enemies. In Fire & Blood, nothing he does is seemingly with any purpose, his reasoning left only to the gods themselves. He is a man shrouded in mystery and given that the text is more of a biased history book than anything, this makes sense.
The show, frustratingly, also seems to take this approach to its detriment, and this also contributes to limiting him as a character. Unlike Varys whose machinations were often contributed towards “the greater good” and Littlefinger who sought to manipulate his way to the top for his own sake, Larys’ scheming ambles towards extremes for little reason, and what reason we are provided sets him over the edge into the territory of a freak-show caricature rather than a well-rounded character.
Feet.
It’s feet.
He’s doing it for Medieval feet pictures, or some version of them. The cost we were speculating on? The wolfish leers he teased Alicent with weren’t promises of something so simple as royal bastards he could manipulate her with, but a desire to simply gaze at her perfect arches while he touches himself and spills the secrets of her enemies.
The choice of writing a character with a disfigured foot as having a foot fetish is such an alarming choice it borders incredulity, particularly given that it was clear so much discussion was considered about diversity, sexism, and sexual assault in the writer’s room.
In almost all scenes Larys practically creeps in corners like an Andy Samberg Saturday Night Live skit. This is not to dismiss or perpetuate the oft-promoted idea that people with disabilities don’t have desires, kinks, or fetishes as detailed by speakers like Dr. Danielle Sheypuk and by sexual psychologist Dr. Justin Lehmiller.
There is something obscenely disturbing however about an able-bodied man portraying a disfigured character with a fetish related to that disfigurement which for all intents and purposes drives him to commit heinous acts–patricide included–that takes his characterization from one of Martin’s carefully crafted portraits to a questionable caricature whose 21st century writing ultimately lay in the hands of people who should have known better.
Tyrion Lannister (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF)
The Imp
Ask people about their favorite character from Martin’s high fantasy epic, and undoubtedly Tyrion will come up among the top three. As of 2021, community polling site Ranker still lists the character as the top ranked based on live voting results. Beloved among book readers and show viewers alike, his character stands to date as a marvel of modern writing, brought to life by none other than Peter Dinklage in a powerhouse performance for eight relentless seasons.
There’s a lot to praise here. There’s the fact that Martin wrote such a poignant character with Dwarfism who stands as a point-of-view perspective and is popular enough to feel relatively safe from beheading all things considered. He is a man equal parts charming and pitiable, enviable and intelligent. Had he been born in a different body he would be granted a much different life, and it is his disability that serves as a barrier despite all the privileges the last name “Lannister” bestows on him (which is a lot).
Through the richness of Martin’s writings, there seep flaws in his characterization notably absent from the television show, which depict what can only be described as the best sides of him. He is “prettied up” of course in the way all actors are in a Hollywood show, his rougher aesthetic smoothed away by the handsome presence of Dinklage. Other aspects of his behavior however make no appearance, from cruder actions that make him appear more morally dubious to Martin’s fixation on forcing him to perform odd tricks and feats like some Florida carnival act, to his almost-rape of Sansa and the murder of the character Marillion.
“Waddling” is a word often used to describe Tyrion’s gait, his POV chapters packed with allusions to the stiffness of his hips, and the aching of his joints. For those with physical disabilities, there is no mistaking or ignoring the reality of chronic pain or discomfort: life inside a tortuous iron maiden that all at once does not allow you to sit still yet punishes movement. Yet for no other characters are similar measures taken.
For instance, when Jon Snow loses the use of one of his hands, every other sentence isn’t dedicated to describing it, nor Ned Stark’s broken leg. Some descriptors yes for Martin is, as mentioned, a master of his craft, yet in Tyrion, there is an excessiveness to it, a level to which it is as though we are made not to forget he is different.
Throughout the series he plays into the role further of the carnie, doing things like flips and mid-air twirls. The physical characteristics neglected in favor of Dinklage’s good looks reinforce the fact that in the books, he must rely upon the power of coin for a woman’s (temporary) love, unlike his brother Jaime who practically has half the women in the kingdom swooning after him. Even gold diggers after the Casterly Rock goods are suspiciously absent, as though Tyrion is so abhorrent none but the whores will have him, and so in equal parts, he becomes a character who we fall in love with while falling short of the true measure of all a disabled character can be.
Patchface (ASOIAF)
The Lackwit
For the unread, Patchface may be a new character. He doesn’t make an appearance onscreen but is alluded to in a brief Easter Egg during Season 3 of Game of Thrones in a song sung by Shireen Baratheon.
Prophetic characters are a narrative theme throughout the series, appearing to sometimes guide major POV characters in what will inevitably be their most consequential decisions. Daenarys, Cersei, Jon, Stannis, and Arya all encounter characters entangled directly with prophecy, and Patchface appears as one of these curious figures whose overall purpose is more or less unknown but hinted at as something bigger in the grand scheme of things.
So named for the colorful tattoos marking his skin, Patchface was freed as a Volantine slave by Steffon Baratheon, the father of Stannis, Renly, and Robert during a trip to Essos that resulted in tragedy. Recognizing the young boy’s brilliance, Steffon intended to bring him home to Storm’s End as a court jester for the boys. Upon his return, a storm wrecked his ship in the bay, killing him and his wife. From the ramparts, his sons watched as the returning fleet was demolished and in the ensuing days, the boys were forced to face the fact that they were orphans when naught but carcasses came to shore.
Patchface was the only survivor, his formerly recognized brilliance replaced with cognitive and intellectual impairment from a mixture of trauma and oxygen deprivation. Henceforth he lost all memory and the ability to speak in coherent sentences, instead only communicating in short snippets sometimes regarded as prophetic by those who listened at the right time.
Occasionally, his words alluded to the watery depths, and he was designated as the court jester for Storm’s End, eventually becoming a play friend to the young Shireen Baratheon. In some ways, Patchface’s existence (and by existence, that of Bran’s) can be seen as an extension of That Magical Cripple.
Narratives centered around disabilities have often depicted people in a state of overcoming or possessing some type of superhuman ability that somehow makes them magical. Similar to the Magical Negro trope, they use this ability to the benefit of those around them, rather than themselves, selflessly repairing a thankless world because it’s not enough to simply be. They do not learn or better themselves in any way, but rather, aid the hapless and needy around them with superhuman abilities. It is not enough to exist as a person with a disability, especially within a quasi-Medieval world whereupon they are seen as a boon to society. Rather, they must possess some ability to furthers the progress of a hero beyond themselves.
In the case of Patchface, his prophetic abilities come to a head on a cliffhanger. A Dance with Dragons leaves off where Season 5 of Game of Thrones saw its conclusion: Jon’s confrontation with the mutineers at The Nights Watch led by Alliser Thorne, spurred by his decision to investigate the goings on at Hardhome. Patchface alludes to visions of “the crows…white as snow” and “the dead are dancing”, possible allusions of wights and White Walkers while at Castle Black. If there is one thing we have learned in the ASOIAF universe, it’s that heeding the advice of the eccentric’s omens may save lives. Aside from that though, who really is Patchface? What real desires does he have? After all, even people with cognitive disabilities want for something, as any caretaker regardless of the decade can tell you.
Throughout his series, George R.R. Martin weaves a rich tapestry of characters of many different colors, rich hues, and vibrant features. For the many complaints arising in a more inclusive culture that demands more of authors now than ever, we can recognize for what it's worth, he did a good job for a white man writing high fantasy in the 90′s when his predecessors had never deigned to feature a skin tone duskier than tan, a sexuality that wasn’t heterosexual, or a suggestion of life that wasn’t based on Christian morality.
And yet for all this, Martin’s portrayal of the lives of disabled people is a one-dimensional portrait that turns them into a 1940s-style Freak Show in Juno, Florida. Lovable characters like The Imp, and reprehensible characters like The Mountain are painted as tropes defined by their physicality and the nature of their disabilities–lest we forget them and it is clear this bias extends to showrunners and directors currently working on House of the Dragon almost 30 years later.
As nature is a spectrum so is representation, there can be good, bad, and all manner of in between, and while we can find love and cringe-worthiness in the depiction of these characters, so can we find hope for the future disability in fantasy alongside racial and sexual diversity as well.
Catch up on Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon via HBO or any of its streaming apps, or better yet, rent it for free at your local library along with the accompanying materials.
Citations:
https://uproxx.com/tv/how-much-did-lotr-the-rings-of-power-really-cost/
https://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/arts-and-culture/a41547050/rings-of-power-season-2-news/
https://www.rottentomatoes.com/tv/game_of_thrones/s08
https://www.pnas.org/doi/10.1073/pnas.2006465117
https://www.sexandpsychology.com/blog/2019/9/6/sex-and-disability-intellectual-disabilities-and-the-right-to-sexuality/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PwvGfs6Pok
https://www.ranker.com/crowdranked-list/best-game-of-thrones-characters
https://open.spotify.com/track/43sz4PFPSPqCzJVRnsgPXT?si=78ec2e67ed1949c5