Game of Thrones, Shakespearean? What fools these mortals be!

Shakespeare’s Shadow: Why Game of Thrones’ Royal Adaptation Falls Short

Wanderstayfinder.com – When audiences discuss the sprawling fantasy saga that captivated millions worldwide, they frequently invoke the name of the Bard. Yet this comparison often feels more like cultural shorthand than genuine artistic connection. The narrative of competing noble families, political intrigue, and violent confrontations has earned the label “Shakespearean,” though this designation sometimes serves as a convenient shield against accusations of being merely escapist entertainment built on spectacle and carnal encounters.

As someone who encountered this television phenomenon somewhat belatedly, I have observed how frequently viewers draw parallels to Elizabethan drama. The justification appears to rest on surface-level similarities rather than deeper structural or linguistic qualities. The rivalry between the Lannister and Stark houses certainly echoes the Plantagenet conflicts of history, but the true Shakespearean debt lies primarily in casting choices rather than dramatic architecture.

Performers and Portrayals

During the opening eleven episodes alone, I identified four actors who had previously embodied King Lear—Julian Glover, David Bradley, Oliver Ford-Davies, and Roger Allam. Sean Bean appeared as Macbeth, Iain Glen portrayed both Hamlet and Henry V, while Michelle Fairley delivered a memorable Cassius. These casting coincidences create an impression of Shakespearean continuity, yet they remain largely coincidental rather than substantive.

The current production at Stratford, presented by the Royal Shakespeare Company and directed by Dominic Cooke—who previously helmed The Hollow Crown television series—promises similar debates. Cooke’s theatrical sensibilities bring considerable weight to this adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s fictional universe.

Visual Homage Versus Dramatic Depth

Michael Shaeffer’s portrayal of King Aerys presents a monarch with white beard, leafy crown, and bare feet—a visual echo of Lear upon the heath. However, the comparison reveals fundamental differences. Lear’s descent into madness follows a gradual trajectory, culminating in clarity before chaos. Shaeffer’s Aerys, by contrast, remains perpetually unhinged from the opening scene.

Where Lear gradually declines into insanity (“O fool I shall go mad”) and comes out the other side, Shaeffer’s Aerys is a dotty despot from start to finish.

The tournament sequences similarly recall Richard II’s opening, yet where Shakespeare’s tournament disruption triggers the king’s eventual downfall, the Stratford production merely repeats the image of battling jousters without narrative consequence.

Linguistic and Structural Shortcomings

Two essential elements separate superficial Shakespearean imitation from genuine engagement with the playwright’s genius. Language stands foremost among these. Shakespeare endowed even minor characters with unforgettable verse—the first murderer’s “the west yet glimmers with some streaks of day” in Macbeth—or plangent prose, as when the second carrier declares “peas and beans are as dank here as a dog” in Henry IV Part I.

Duncan Macmillan’s dialogue in this production rarely achieves such luminosity. The script relies heavily on riddling aphorisms such as “Every step we take from our destiny leads us towards it” and archaic vocabulary like “mayhap” that recalls Max Beerbohm’s Savonarola Brown, where Lucrezia asks: “How many crows may nest in a grocer’s jerkin?”

Where Shakespeare allows even minor characters unforgettable verse (the first murderer’s “the west yet glimmers with some streaks of day” in Macbeth) or plangent prose (the second carrier’s “peas and beans are as dank here as a dog” in Henry IV Part I), Duncan Macmillan’s dialogue rarely glistens.

Social Breadth and Theatrical Vision

Equally absent is Shakespeare’s capacity to animate dynastic struggle through social detail and geographical range. Even in early works like Henry VI Part Two, we encounter the delightful Simpcox scene, where a supposedly blind man is exposed as fraudulent. By the time Shakespeare reached the two parts of Henry IV, he had transported audiences from council chambers and battlefields into Eastcheap taverns and Cotswold pastures.

The Stratford production, spanning nearly four hours, offers limited perspective on how power struggles affect ordinary citizens. This remains fundamentally a tale of aristocratic feuds and tribal warfare, with minimal acknowledgment of those who serve as mere cannon fodder in these elite conflicts.

Beyond the Bard: A Different Path

While the Royal Shakespeare Company appears increasingly drawn toward fictional narratives, this fixation may represent a missed opportunity. Following this Martin-inspired production, the company plans adaptations of George Eliot and Alexandre Dumas. Yet one historical novelist with genuine Shakespearean qualities remains largely overlooked: Walter Scott.

Though Scott has fallen from fashion, his Waverley novels demonstrate remarkable narrative energy and character richness. Jonathan Bate, in The Genius of Shakespeare, argues persuasively for Scott’s debt to the Stratford playwright, citing even Marxist critical endorsement of Scott’s literary stature.

The RSC directors might consider reading Bate’s analysis before committing further to fictional adaptations. Alternatively, they could pursue something more radical—staging the actual plays Shakespeare composed rather than searching for works that merely resemble his style. Such a course might prove too ambitious for contemporary theatrical sensibilities, but it would honor the company’s foundational mission.

Game of Thrones: The Mad King runs at the Royal Shakespeare theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon through 5 September.