Patrick Freyne: This new show is about politicians and the real estate they feel entitled to. I’d say Robert Troy loves it

One of the things I enjoyed about the original Game of Thrones was how it tricked a lot of viewers into thinking it was a deep show about power and politics before revealing itself to be a goofy romp about dragons and zombies. This allowed me to stand in people’s gardens shouting “nerds!” on Game of Thrones day and they couldn’t do anything about it. It was a fair cop. They were nerds now and everyone knew it. Their family members often joined in with my hilarious taunting.

House of the Dragon (Sky Atlantic and Now) goes full dragon in episode one. Within minutes we have someone riding a big magical CGI sky lizard over a CGI King’s Landing, Westeros’s version of Dalkey (also CGI). The orchestral theme tune might as well feature the lyrics “Dragon show! This is a dragon show! And you are nerds! Nerds watching a dragon show! Let’s go on a quest!” That’s what I sing anyway. (For the original I sang “Who will win ... the Game of Thrones? The person who is best ... at the Game of Thrones. Many people are skilled ... at the Game of Thrones! But who is the best? ... Could it be youuuuu?”).

Game of Thrones distinguished itself from things like Dungeons & Dragons by hiding supernatural elements behind randomly nude women, gratuitous ultraviolence and tediously detailed council meetings. (I learned a lot about managing feudal cities from Game of Thrones and so I can now deal with Dublin.) It pretended to be a sort of olden-days Sopranos mixed up with the nine o’clock news, a show for people who read newspapers and have opinions on jazz. But with dragons in place from the start, House of the Dragon is obviously just a steamier late-night variation of genre fantasy. It’s basically Dungeons & Dragons Nights. It’s a nerd show for nerds, and even reading about it makes you a nerd.

The whole story would go in a different direction if Viserys just had the Iron Throne replaced with a proper, ergonomically designed office chair. He should really get a proper little home-office set-up for himself if he continues working from home

So hello my fellow nerds! It’s 172 years before the events of Game of Thrones, and we are delving into the genealogy of that show’s favourite incestuous shampoo models, the Targaryens. One of their ancestors, King Viserys (Paddy Considine), sits upon the incredibly uncomfortable Iron Throne, a throne that is made literally of pointy metal swords but that everyone wants to sit on. A plot point established in this episode is that Viserys is actually being cut when he sits on it and is probably going to die of his wounds.

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This is, in fairness, hilarious. If I was a writer on House of the Dragon I’d have played this more for laughs and have Viserys say “Ouch” more often, or “Let’s have a stand-up meeting this morning” or “Hey, it’s a lovely day, let’s have this council session outside” or “Anyone have a cushion?” The whole story would go in a different direction if Viserys just had the Iron Throne replaced with a proper, ergonomically designed office chair. He should really get a proper little home-office set-up for himself if he continues working from home. Surely HR has a role to play in this. Full disclosure: I write in bed and it’s doing my back wonders.

Viserys’s closest relatives include Daemon (Matt Smith), his brother, who is a shit and is in charge of the city guard, and Princess Rhaenyra (Milly Alcock), his daughter, who we meet piloting her CGI dragon, a “great wyrm”, before hanging out with her more ladylike friend Alicent. Yes, her name is “Alice” with an “nt” at the end. And, yes, they spell “wyrm” with a “y”. Names and nouns in the world of Game of Thrones are always a bit like words you might encounter in our world, but with magical olden-days spelling. This is historically accurate. Just ask any historian who specialises in places that never existed. If I was in this show, for example, I’d be called Paetrick and I would write for a newspapyr.

Anyway, Viserys’s wife, Aemma, is pregnant, and they are hoping the baeby will be a bouy. Viserys also has a big jousting competition to run, and there are rumours of pirate armadas out at sea — and don’t get him started on the big spiky chair that’s bad for his back. He’s a busy king on the go, trying to juggle work and family. Oh, if only he had a decent office chair with proper lumbar support and good swivel action!

My favourite characters are two naked extras who briefly stop simulating sex to listen to Matt Smith give an evil speech in a crowded brothel. I’m fascinated by this detail. ‘Hmm, this evil speech is so engaging,’ their tentative midcoital pose seems to say

I’m anticipating a whole series set in Office Wyrld, but then Smith gets his guards to cause mayhem around the city, and before you can say “Please don’t show me that”, somebody is having his penys cut off. The camera dwells so pointedly on the bloody result that I think for a minute Penys is going to be an exciting lead character — this programme’s Jon Snow. (They could do it with puppets.) But sadly not. The excessive violence sets a tone, though, and before long Smith is having angry joyless HBO sex, after which there are a grisly jousting event and a truly upsetting birth scene that involves mutilation and death. It’s all happening to people we’ve barely met and feels excessive and unpleasant.

By the end of the episode we have a sick and bereaved king, an anointed heir, a disgruntled wannabe heir and a CGI dragon acting like an obedient Scooby Doo-style sidekick. He should say “Ruh-roh” from time to time. What we don’t have is the geographical and character scope of Game of Thrones. Yes, that show eventually devolved into a tedious sprawl, but at the outset, as the action moved from the margins to the centre, the scope made the story seem enormous and exciting. This show is all centre. It’s all dragons and kings, and it largely takes place in a palace. It’s tightly focused and small. There are also no real underdogs (yet), so there’s less emotional weight. It’s a show about politicians and the real estate they feel entitled to. I imagine Robert Troy loves it.

That said, we do see one thing we’ve never seen before. My favourite characters are two naked extras who briefly stop simulating sex in order to listen attentively to Smith give an evil speech in a crowded brothel. I’m fascinated by this detail. “Hmm, this evil speech is so engaging,” their tentative midcoital pose seems to say. I wish there was a close-up shot of their faces, to see if they’re nodding with interest. I suppose if you’re the type of person who has sex in the middle of a crowded room, you might also be the type of person who would stop midthrust if Smith was delivering an interesting speech nearby. “He makes some great points,” I imagine them saying. “And now let us continue our riding.” Whatever the case, I haven’t seen this situation before in art, and, in my view, naked-extras-midcoitally-listening-to-Matt-Smith’s-evil-speech are the breakout stars of 2022. Perhaps it is they who will ascend to the Iron Throne. If so, I’d suggest they put on some pants.