Therefore I must ask myself, why?
Is there a problem with the acting on Game of Thrones? Hells no. It’s superb as always.
Have the producers skimped on the sets or costuming? Again, hells no.
Have the characters remained true to themselves? Yes.
Has the blood and gore factor diminished in any perceptible way? Absolutely not.
Is there nothing on the line? Nothing left to fight for? Oh, honey, it’s all on the line.
Is devil-spawned Joffrey Baratheon still the most hated character in the history of media (or medium)? Oh yes indeed. Hated. Hated. Hated.
Are there completely naked bodies everywhere? Of course. It wouldn’t be Game of Thrones without naked bodies.
Then why oh why do I find myself more intrigued by House of Cards?
Here it is in a nutshell – We pick a handful of characters, important, critical characters, and we, the viewers, stick to them like glue. Follow their every move. If we introduce a new character, that new character must be in some way essential to the story. Each and every event propels the story forward. There is no wasted space. There is no wasted persona. There is no wasted, i.e., filler nudity.
The HBO series, Game of Thrones, is doing exactly what the author of the Fire and Ice saga, George R.R. Martin, did to me during the reading of the Fire and Ice saga. He began to bore me. Too many characters. Too many beautiful but ultimately meaningless details. Too many useless and random (perhaps they had meaning for the author) events that bogged down the story instead of moving it forward. Too much meandering.
Game of Thrones is in need of a single-minded purpose. Revenge may be sweet, but in the end it’s not enough. (Unless you are Ragnar Lothbrok.) I’d like to give the story a shove. An infusion of Francis Underwood would be nice.