For those like me who had been stuck on the wall, deeply appreciative of the show's ambition but not emotionally engaged enough to go completely
Wildling, the true gift of "Blackwater" wasn't that it rewarded our considerable investment with a long-awaited exclamation point. It was the slow-dawning realization that the inferno where Stannis's fleet used to be didn't mark the end of a story, it was merely the prelude to the greater conflagrations to come. And come they do, beginning this Sunday at 9 p.m. ET when
Game of Thrones returns for its third season. Though the Iron Throne remains in dispute, the show itself now reigns alone; with
Breaking Bad winding down and
The Walking Dead still scavenging for brains,
Game of Thrones is peaking at the right moment, entering its prime just as its rivals begin to fade. Thanks to its voluminous source material, the show is unique in the way each season is able to build directly on what came before. Freed from the vagaries of network meddling or showrunner waffling, the sheer weight of the story — a millstone in lesser hands — is now an anchor. Even in our current cultural hothouse, where hyperbolic tweets are loosed like flaming arrows,
Game of Thrones feels like it has finally and legitimately arrived. There are no more casual fans; to commit to the show now is to care deeply about the intricacies of succession rights and the proper formation of a khalasar. It took time, like winters in Westeros, but
Game of Thrones has become cable television's signature phenomenon.
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