Women of Ice and Fire

Gender, Game of Thrones and Multiple Media Engagements

Anne Gjelsvik, Rikke Schubart, Anne Gjelsvik, Rikke Schubart

• Éditeur: Bloomsbury Academic
• Année: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781501302923
• Édition: 1
• Sujet: Media & Performing Arts
• Sous-sujet: Television History & Criticism

George R.R. Martin's acclaimed seven-book fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire is unique for its strong and multi-faceted female protagonists, from teen queen Daenerys, scheming Queen Cersei, child avenger Arya, knight Brienne, Red Witch Melisandre, and many more. The Game of Thrones universe challenges, exploits, yet also changes how we think of women and gender, not only in fantasy, but in Western culture in general. Divided into three sections addressing questions of adaptation from novel to television, female characters, and politics and female audience engagement within the GoT universe, the interdisciplinary and international lineup of contributors analyze gender in relation to female characters and topics such as genre, sex, violence, adaptation, as well as fan reviews. The genre of fantasy was once considered a primarily male territory with male heroes. Women of Ice and Fire shows how the GoT universe challenges, exploits, and reimagines gender and why it holds strong appeal to female readers, audiences, and online participants.

Chapter 1

ADAPTING SEX: CULTURAL CONCEPTIONS OF SEXUALITY IN WORDS AND IMAGES

Mariah Larsson

The sex scenes in the Game of Thrones TV series have drawn a lot of attention. Bloggers, journalists, and other commentators have discussed, in particular, the frequent display of female nudity and sexual violence in the series, complaining that it is gratuitous, excessive, and misogynist.1 In general, the TV-adaptation of Game of Thrones contains more sex and nudity than the novels. Sex is referred to at least as often in the novels, but the mere mention of a naked sex worker in words makes for quite a different impression than an actual naked woman in a scene on TV.

George R. R. Martin himself has responded to criticism by stating that it would be “fundamentally false and dishonest” to avoid depictions of rape and sexual violence, since these have been part of human history “from the ancient Sumerians to our present day”.2 A lot of the strength of the Game of Thrones series—both the novels and the TV adaptation—comes from the sense that, although belonging to the fantasy genre, they are somehow simultaneously realist, and that, in Martin’s own words, “the true horrors of human history derive not from orcs and Dark Lords, but from ourselves”.3 However, that some scenes in the TV series further develop, exaggerate and even add sexual violence to the story—like the rape of Cersei by Jaime beside the body of their son, or the abuse of the women at Craster’s Keep by deserter Crows (Season 4)—might well be argued to be gratuitous and to exploit a viewer pleasure that is at least as horrific as the horrors portrayed.4

In this chapter, however, focus is not sexual violence per se (although violence may be an element in some ways), but on the institution of marriage and how the sex scenes in A Song of Ice and Fire (novels) and Game of Thrones (TV series) negotiate our modern understanding of sexuality and intimate relations on a cultural and social level with our preconceived ideas about sexuality and intimate relations in another time and place. Since written narratives and audiovisual media have different impacts on readers/viewers, the changes made in the adaptation are of particular interest here. As Anne Gjelsvik has argued, one of the changes made in the transformation from written word to (mainstream) audiovisual representation, is a “‘downplaying’ of taboos and provocative content, where challenging depictions of violence and sex are modified to suit the conventions of cinema”.5 Some of these modifications have definitely occurred in the adaptation of A Song of Ice and Fire (downplaying, in particular, the taboo of pedophilia, as I will discuss further on). However, since we engage with moving images differently, in particular with regard to depictions of sex and violence, than we do with written fiction—in a sensorial and embodied way—the perception of sex and violence in the TV series comes across as stronger than in the novels,6 regardless of whether there actually is more violence and sex or not. Certain changes in the adaptation are made because of legal issues and regulations, others are made because of this embodied and sensorial engagement of the viewer, and others again have to do with informal and implicit norms and conventions. The latter are the ones that are in focus here, but all three are interconnected and inform each other. It is my contention that the universe of Game of Thrones in some way functions as a “projection of our own gender nightmare on to the screen of a very different culture”.7

Representations that combine sex and violence—that, for instance, depict rape—are located on a disconcerting threshold between discursive reality and fictional discourse. Feminist scholarship on rape usually draws a clear line between sexual violence and sex,8 which is both reasonable and, in my opinion, imperative, in relation to actual, physical acts of sexual violence. However, without disregarding the sometimes precarious discursive relationship of fiction to reality, I would claim that representations of sexual violence can, indeed, be sex; that is, they can evoke sexual feelings in the viewer, regardless of whether the viewer wishes to engage in such actions in reality. An example of this would be the scene in which Theon’s manhood is cut off by Ramsay Snow, during a prolonged torture session designed both to break down Theon and to annihilate his identity. Although this is a situation that few would like to see realized, this does not preclude the fact that a handful of viewers might actually find sexual pleasure in watching the scene—either through a masochist identification with Theon, a sadist identification with Ramsay, or on a different level altogether.9

Using the marriages of Daenerys and Khal Drogo, Robb and Talisa/Jeyne, and Tyrion and Sansa as examples, I will discuss themes of the meanings of sexual positions, sex as the expression of true love, and innocence and virginity. For my discussion, I will use concepts from the work of two sociologists, John H. Gagnon and William Simon, namely their sexual script theory, which stipulates that sexuality is socially conditioned rather than biologically determined.10 In addition, a historical perspective on sexuality, marriage, and love will provide a background to my analysis of the adaptation of these sex scenes from Martin’s novels to screen.

Background and Theory

Certain cultural and social ideals shape our perception of love, sexuality, and intimate and romantic relationships. These ideals are in no way all pervasive or universal, but are actually quite closely connected to our socio-cultural circumstances, and the predominant ideological values and economic organization of society.

Today, in democracies, we perceive marriage to be the outcome of romantic love, in which sexuality plays a significant part, but is still subordinate to the romantic feelings between a couple. Although prosecution might prove very difficult, in theory, at least, it is not legal for a husband to rape or beat his wife.11 Neither does he enter into guardianship of his wife. Marriage as a completely gender equal union might be far from the reality in many cases (and what exactly is meant by that can obviously be debated), yet spouses are much more equal today than in, for instance, the eighteenth century.

Historically, marriage was a financial and reproductive arrangement, used to forge alliances, combine wealth, and ensure rightful heirs, but also to provide protection for women and children in a world in which they had extremely few rights. The concepts of romantic love, gender equality, and sexual equality are of a quite recent date in human history—romantic love appears in the late eighteenth century, and ideals of sexual equality and equality between genders have an even shorter history, gaining influence as late as the second half—or even the last quarter—of the twentieth century.12

Considering the brevity of such notions in human history, it is no wonder that they are still entrenched with a much longer tradition of unequal power relations and financial arrangements. Although George R. R. Martin’s series A Song of Ice and Fire belongs within the genre of fantasy, it still needs to connect with our concepts of history in order to provide that “suspension of disbelief” necessary to appreciate any story.13 Likewise, the TV series Game of Thrones is produced and consumed under the same conditions. A detailed and carefully constructed mise-en-scène provides a strong sense of realism, which functions to draw us into the narrative, but also provides a sense of verisimilitude, that the series is true to its own universe.

Accordingly, the sexuality depicted in the series—both in the novels and in the TV series—needs to align itself with our contemporary ideas and conceptions of what sexuality might have been like in a different time and place. The use of marriage as a vital part of various power intrigues both concurs with our more or less diffuse perceptions of the historical meanings of the institution of matrimony, and, at the same time, conflicts with our modern ideals of true love and (some kind of) gender equality. This is one of the reasons that the wildlings stand out in a sympathetic light—in contrast with the arranged marriages of Westeros, their notions of love and sexuality concur more with ours, than those of many other cultures of A Song of Ice and Fire.

Although sexuality is often perceived as a universal natural force or biological drive, according to Gagnon and Simon, sexuality is socially constructed. What they term the “sexual script” shapes when, how, why, and with whom we have sex.14 The sexual script exists and functions at three different levels—intrapsychically, interpersonally, and as a cultural scenario. Since sexuality is rarely practiced or spoken of openly in society, our learning of the script is constructed from bits and pieces out of varied sources, such as jokes and asides, taboo words and behaviors, sex educational material, love scenes in books and movies, and various sensations in our own bodies in connection with outside stimuli like pornography or literary erotica. The term script is a metaphor for how our feelings and behavior are shaped by a social context, and could rather be understood as certain premises for improvisation than as a specific script that is learned by heart.

The intrapsychic script is individual and forms each person’s desires and sexual behavior—it is, thus, how “a private world of wishes and desires that are experienced as originating in the deepest recesses of the self” are “bound to social life: the linking of individual desires to social meanings”.15 The interpersonal script informs the behavior between people—this is where the improvisational aspect becomes the clearest. Finally, the cultural scenario both functions as a source of informat...