Nothing brings more joy to a satirist than an explosive cultural happening. If you’re seeking a comedy goldmine, the widespread publicity and ballooning fandom of the original source material is an indication that you’re looking in the right place. If the subject takes itself too seriously that’s another good sign. And nothing lacks self-awareness like a television fantasy-drama whose exhibitor harbors cinematic aspirations and the slogan, “It’s not TV. It’s HBO.” (They call this movie envy, or TV guilt). Enter Game of Thrones, fodder for local Bad Dog Theatre Company’s improv lampoon, Throne of Games, enjoying its final run at the Comedy Bar on May 23rd.
It’s not easy to represent a series filled with convoluted plot points and elevated language. But the comedians at Bad Dog set their scene and play it out with ease and confidence, knowing where to begin and end while dispensing with much of the awkwardness that is normal for improv. No segment is too long or too short, and the show lasts about an hour.
Since the show is unscripted, I cannot fault its actors for their efforts. I can only evaluate the final product as funny or not. Sarah Hillier’s Arya Stark running into a wall is not funny. Substituting dragon eggs with Kinder Surprise and their hatchlings with a Digimon plush toy is cute, but childish; it’s something I would expect from a high school production. These are cheap laughs, but fortunately there’s more to the show than that.
Throne of Games brand of humour is familiar but not predictable. The show’s actors parody the original characters’ hyperbolic dialogue, whether that be contrived love-speak or suggestive death threats; Kris Siddiqi, playing king-without-a-clue Ned Stark, says to Kevin Whalen’s smug, accented, and all-knowing Petyr Baelish, “I don’t know what you mean but I understand your tone.”
Throne of Games is at its best when targeting the series’ less subtle elements; Conor Bradbury’s portly Khal Drogo watching his queen eat a dragon heart simply says, “OH. MY. GOD. That is so graphic.” Bradbury’s excellent timing and timbre only added to the irony, since HBO is frequently called the closest thing to soft-core pornography this side of 10 p.m. Bradbury’s denim shorts were also a nice touch.
The actors repeatedly honed in on Ned’s complete and utter ignorance. These jokes worked only because every Game of Thrones viewer has at some point been exasperated when Stark asks questions with exceedingly obvious answers. The series’ famous slogan and mantra of the Stark family, “Winter is coming,” also featured prominently in monologues.
Paloma Nunez alone among the show’s actors did not seem to be improvising. Her deadpan portrayal of Cersei Lannister, the conniving queen of the Seven Kingdoms, employed the mannerisms of the actor in the television series (Lena Headey) in pursuit of something more productive and humorous than mere mimicry.
Judging by the audience’s laughter, nearly everyone seemed to enjoy the show, although that may have something to do with the bar located just steps from the main theatre. Throne of Games is not worth the price of admission, and you would not miss much if you skipped the show. I enjoyed the production, but only because I was familiar with Game of Thrones. The jokes might be worth a chuckle without any knowledge of the television series, but they lose their potency without any context.
Though it was improvised, Throne of Games would have benefitted from a good script; the actors are willing, capable, and the material has promise. If winter is coming, this is a good warm-up for the Bad Dog Theatre Company.
