Why “The Mountain and the Viper” is the best episode of Season 4

For the Best Episode of Season 4 poll, our staff argued for our favorite episodes of the season…

The underlying theme of “The Mountain and the Viper” is vulnerability. Everyone who gets a spotlight in this episode has a tear in the armor made from their own flaws. Far from being weakness, however, vulnerability proves that one of George R.R. Martin’s fundamental tenets in writing the books are present in the show: characters are at war with their own hearts. And one of the basic ideas of this episode is that we draw on our vulnerabilities for strength, but they can also unmake us in unexpected ways….

As the wildlings attack Mole’s Town (itself a soft spot for the Night’s Watch, who are now faced with overwhelming odds), Ygritte spares Gilly’s life, as Jon Snow once did for her. Though neither character will admit it, Jon and Ygritte have become each others’ vulnerabilities, and Sam, a character at war with his own cowardice, fears he made a fatal error in entrusting Gilly to Mole’s Town. Love is a vulnerability for Grey Worm, as well, as Missandei wrestles with the idea that he could still desire her even though he is a eunuch. And Ramsay Snow boasts to Theon that krakens are “strong, as long as they’re in the sea” but even Ramsay Snow has a vulnerable spot: a desire to honor his father, who finally legitimizes him, making Ramsay heir to the North.

Sansa has always been vulnerable, her belief in a kind and just world often blinding her to the truth of the world she lives in. But here, she uses the truth (and her own emotional vulnerability) to shield herself, protecting and saving both herself and Littlefinger in the process. “Lord Baelish has told many lies… all to protect me,” she claims to Lysa Arryn’s council. As she gives a convincing performance in order to persuade the council that Lysa did indeed commit suicide, Sansa resolves the war with herself–and starts a new one with Littlefinger, whose own vulnerability (his love for Catelyn Stark) was exposed for Sansa in that moment at the Moon Door.

I’ve already written at length about Jorah’s banishment scene, but one of the best parts of that scene is that Daenerys doesn’t yell. This is the same woman who roared “those who would harm you will die screaming”, but Dany and Jorah are each other’s vulnerable spots, and the betrayal cuts her deeper than any mortal wound she has had in the course of her life. The trembling in Emilia Clarke’s voice is proof enough of that, and Iain Glen’s face as he sees himself in her eyes (the eyes that won’t even look at him, but above him, over him, beyond him) is as earth-shattering as the spear that pierces the Mountain’s chest.

Speaking of which, Oberyn, too, is vulnerable. Like Bronn in Tyrion’s first trial by combat, Oberyn is quick and swift, ably dodging the Mountain’s brutish attacks. But the focus of this scene is the taunting. “You raped her,” he says, “you murdered her, you killed her children! Who gave the order!?” Oberyn’s love for the women in his life, and his desire for vengeance on their behalf, is his own undoing. And when the Mountain finally does admit to his crime, he doesn’t do it out of a sense of guilt or righteousness; he does it to throw the words back in Oberyn’s face, right before he literally throws Oberyn’s face to the ground.

And by this point, Tyrion is basically an open wound. Much has been made of the beetle-smashing scene, but I don’t see any remarkable or arcane symbolism in it. Instead, as with everyone else in this episode, Tyrion is exposing a flaw of his own, which happens to also be his greatest strength: his mind. Tyrion has again placed his life in someone else’s hands, and he fears that this time is one time too many. When faced with such life-threatening fear, he falls back on the puzzles and mysteries of the universe, trying to work a problem he can solve to distract from the one that he can’t solve. The story he tells Jaime isn’t really about poor, simple Orson Lannister; it’s about Tyrion at war with himself, trying and failing to understand his own actions.

I like when Game of Thrones manages these underlying themes so well. It’s a reminder that even though this show has ice zombies and dragons and shadow assassins, it is still, at heart, a show about characters, human beings with strengths and flaws and drives that push them beyond their own limits in search of something greater.

It would be easy to say that “The Mountain and the Viper” is a good episode for its shocking and grotesque ending, but I think that does the episode’s finer points a disservice. The Hound can make jokes about “family and honor” as a means to get paid for carrying Arya halfway across the continent, but even he has holes in his armor: his hatred for his brother, his odd fondness for the Stark sisters, and the festering wound in his neck. And it is Tywin’s own vulnerability for his family, which he fights so fiercely to defend over the course of the series, that proves to be his own undoing in time. As Tyrion says to Oberyn, “you could at least wear a helmet.”

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• Published on 12/30/2014 at 1:30 PM CDT
• Last updated on 12/30/2014 at 1:30 PM CDT