Has there ever been a more significant fumble than the ending of Game of Thrones? After 73 episodes spanning eight seasons, totaling 70+ hours, showrunners David Benioff and D. B. Weiss’s adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire novel series presented an ending that made Game of Thrones — once a cultural masterpiece in the eyes of millions — fall from grace. Even years later, the stink of failure remains. No conversation about Game of Thrones can occur without scrunching your face and saying, “that ending, though…”
While nothing can ever truly make up for Game of Thrones’ senseless finale (Daenerys Targaryen, you will always be The Prince Who Was Promised to me), one new addition to Game of Thrones may finally begin to repair that damage. Enter Game of Thrones: The Mad King, a stage play directed by Dominic Cooke and written by Duncan Macmillan. The stage adaptation is set during the waning days of Mad King Aerys’ reign, the fateful jousting tournament at Harrenhal, and the eventual lead-up to Robert’s Rebellion.
As a diehard ASoIaF fan who’s read all the books, I was excited (if a bit nervous) to attend an early preview of The Mad King ahead of its world premiere on August 8. But after traveling to the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon, England, and seeing the show for myself, I can gleefully report that not only is this the Game of Thrones follow-up fans have been waiting for, it’s also an undeniably bold piece of theater — both in its story and its presentation.
For readers who have gleefully trawled through all the books of A Song of Ice and Fire and are all too aware of the unanswered questions about the era before the novels and HBO’s TV adaptation began, The Mad King is like uncovering the key that helps decipher the ancient map you’ve been trying to translate. Finally, after years of fan theories across message boards and social media, we have answers to the mystery of what happened on those fateful days leading up to Robert Baratheon taking up arms against King Aerys and slaying his son, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
Our main players in the stage play are Eddard “Ned” Stark (Michael Abubakar), Lyanna Stark (Harmony Rose-Bremner), Prince Rhaegar Targaryen (Noah Ritter), Princess Elia Martell (Elizabeth Ayodele), Ashara Dayne (Tanisha Spring), and Lord Robert Baratheon (Callum Woodhouse). Other recognizable characters from the novels and the TV adaptation also appear, including Jamie (Maxim Ays) and Cersei Lannister (Daisy Franks), but it is undeniably the Starks, Targaryens, Baratheons, and Martells who drive the story forward.
After a long period of winter, the Whents of Harrenhal have called for a celebration — a jousting tourney to bring the nobility together. However, the real reason for the event is soon made clear: Rhaegar, as well as two of his most loyal Kingsguard, plan to overthrow his father, King Aerys. We know from both the novel and the TV adaptation that Aerys certainly lived up to his nickname, and Michael Shaefer portrays this haunted fanaticism with a mix of glee and somberness that makes you both laugh and feel utterly sorry for the tyrannical king.
Aerys isn’t the only character who defies expectations. Cooke and MacMillan take what you thought you knew about these characters, which was breadcrumbed throughout ASoIaF, and transform them into fully fleshed-out individuals. The most striking example is Princess Elia Martell. While fans will likely want to know more about the romance behind Rhaegar and Lyanna’s story, for us, Elia easily steals the show. She is portrayed in the novels as a heartbroken Dornish maiden, bereft after her husband, Rhaegar, runs off with Lyanna Stark and leaves her and her children behind. While Elia does indeed have opinions about Rhaegar’s abandonment, she’s very politically savvy and, even with her head on a chopping block, is looking for a way to come out ahead.
It would be wrong, however, to mistake this level of political know-how for cruelty. Elia is a Dornish princess in a land where her Dornish beliefs and customs are looked down upon. Because of this, she has few allies outside of her lover Ashara, her brother Oberyn (Edem-Ita Duke), and her uncle, Lewyn (Adrian Christopher). In one scene, Aerys looks at his new grand-sire and calls him a “Dornish mongrel.” It’s rough to be from Dorne.
With the TV adaptation of Ned Stark being portrayed by the great Sean Bean, I always imagined that filling those shoes was going to be tough. Abubakar, however, adds a new level of depth to the Ned we know and love. He is heartbreakingly sincere in his affection for his family and friends, but has the versatility to portray the same staunch, honor-bound attitude and quiet fervor that made Bean’s take on Ned so memorable in the first place. No matter where he’s positioned on stage, Abubakar’s presence as Ned is duly felt.
Woodhouse is also instantly recognizable as Robert Baratheon the moment he’s on stage. Our first introduction to Robert paints him as boastful and brutish, not far from how he is in HBO’s adaptation. Yet even amid the violence, jeering, and whoring that Robert prides himself on, Woodhouse reveals another side — a man desperate to find meaning in the grief that surrounds him.
Beyond its characters, The Mad King is one of the most visually stunning pieces of theater I’ve seen in a long time. Set on a cross-shaped stage, the production places us right in the center to take in the full beauty of the set pieces, costumes, and puppetry at work. One of the most engrossing elements is the godswood of Harrenhal, a twisted piece of wood with a distinct, carved angry face at its center. The smoke that billows from the bottom of its roots makes each scene feel like you’re witnessing a fabled vision come to life.
However, it’s the sheer talent of the puppeteers and their craft that left me spellbound. The opening scene of The Mad King depicts the arrival of all the great houses at Harrenhal, most of them astride horses that, from a distance, look like the real thing. It’s only when they come closer that you realize they’re in fact puppets, with people inside moving the legs and head. One scene that particularly conveys the mastery of movement and the level of polish of these puppets is the arrival of a gigantic, yellow-eyed dragon, whose sheer mass takes up almost the entire stage and is breathtaking to witness.
It’s hard to point to anything particularly uninspiring about The Mad King that stems from its own flaws. In fact, the only time I found the stage play frustrating was when it tried to make sense of some of the worst parts of Game of Thrones’ later choices — namely Daenerys’s unearned descent into madness and villainy to position Jon Snow as the better ruler. Try as The Mad King might, it’s far more enjoyable if you divorce the stage play adaptation from HBO’s Game of Thrones entirely. Judging it on its own merits transforms The Mad King into a masterpiece of pure Shakespearean art, rather than a prequel to a once-great-now-middling fantasy TV series.
The Mad King isn’t going to prevent you from still feeling negatively about the ending of Game of Thrones — we doubt anything could — but after years of experiencing secondhand embarrassment whenever the series is even mentioned, it’s healing to finally have something that makes me believe in Game of Thrones again.
Game of Thrones: The Mad King is now performing at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon.
