This review contains spoilers.
5.9 A Simple Story
A few years ago, I reviewed Jonathan Rhys Meyers’ last television series Dracula for Den of Geek, wearily slogging my way through what ended up being an uninspired effort pretty much from beginning to end. What became clear to me during the show’s ten-episode run was that someone made the obvious observation that Meyers was born to play a vampire, his androgynous and dark good looks combining with his gravelly voice to create the kind of seductively creepy figure we have come to associate with the species. The problem is that, largely, Dracula‘s creators at NBC seemed to hang about 85% of the show on that observation, creating a bloodless and uncommitted steampunk Victorian London, in which unfolds a story where we are uninspired to care about any of the characters (except, perhaps, Victoria Smurfit’s striking Lady Jayne) or their fates. Meyers makes a good vampire, for all the suspected reasons, but he could not save the show alone. And about halfway through, I started to question whether—given that his performances were merely passable for an actor who is normally capable of truly excellent work—he himself had realised that it was a lost cause and gave it as little as it seemed to give him.
My point—I do have one—is that not even a great actor in a role he was born to play can truly rise above leaden writing and directing, let alone a showrunner who seems to be phoning it in. And that’s what it’s really starting to feel like with Vikings.
Normally, an episode like A Simple Story is precisely the kind of Vikings episode I would like. It’s built around the characters and their relationships, which have been the strength of the show. Unfortunately, there’s so much happening in this episode, and it’s all shoehorned together so tightly, that it fails to give either the characters or us the breathing space needed to make us feel what it’s clear we are supposed to. It moves from story to story so quickly, and without any connective tissue, that it feels like the entire episode is a montage that is gradually speeding up as we go along, rather than an episode that ends in one.
And that’s a real shame because, had this one episode been two, we could have had some of the show’s best work thus far. The build-up to the final fight for Kattegat certainly demands it. But by rushing things, rather than allowing them to develop, A Simple Story short-circuits its own plotlines by making them unpalatable at the very moment where they should finally be starting to pay off.
Take, for example, Floki’s adventure in Iceland. Showrunner/writer Michael Hirst has kept dragging us back to the island to the northwest to keep us abreast of one of our favourite character’s mission. To date, it’s been slow-going, primarily because Floki’s story has almost nothing to do with what is happening on the rest of Vikings. Which has been fine. This week, we saw things heat up in an uncharacteristically precipitous fashion. Suddenly, the malcontent Eyvind (Kris Holden-Reid) isn’t the only one, but has a formidable band of naysayers. And one that isn’t just unhappy but actually murderous. More bizarrely (since Hirst doesn’t take the time to explain), this band—who followed Floki to a new land because it was the land of the gods—sets fire to a church dedicated to one of the most powerful of those gods… but only after disrupting its dedication and destroying the sacrifice made to Thor. Given world enough and time, I suppose you could come up with an adequate in-story explanation for that, but this episode isn’t designed to do either.
The same could be said for the plot going on in Wessex. I think that we’ve all suspected that there was going to come a time for the succession question to rear its ugly head between Aethelred and Alfred (historically, Aethelred ruled before his younger brother), but to have Moe Dunford’s Aethelwulf taken out so quickly by a bee sting (if he was—there are two tiny indications that Aethelwulf might be caught up in a hallucination which includes his own death, but such a tack would only further weaken the episode) is so disappointing as to be hard to credit. However, we have been given plenty of reason to believe that Judith had found enough love in her heart for her husband that it’s difficult to almost as difficult to believe that she went so quickly from his deathbed to undoing his intended successor, their son Aethelred. That Aethelred, who has been preparing for this role his whole life, would even more quickly—and over both his own desire and better judgement—acquiesce to her plan, which calls for him to publicly humiliate himself, is ludicrous on its face. As is the notion that the Witan would approve. And the idea that Alfred is more ready and qualified to hold the throne is totally undercut by his demeanor during his coronation. Given time, again, perhaps this could all be explained, but the fact that it isn’t leaves us frustrated and maybe a touch resentful.
Of course, that’s nothing compared to how quickly, and without any real consideration, Ivar agrees to his brother’s suggestion that they call in Rollo. When last we saw Rollo with any of the sons of Ragnar (The Great Army), he promised them land in his kingdom, should they want it, not the vague “support” that Hvitserk talks about him offering. That Rollo dispatches a Frankish army so large that it not only fills the places left by the Norsemen lost on by Harald in the first attack but actually causes everyone to believe that success is all but certain for their side is even more ludicrous when the episode has Hvitserk somehow travelling to Normandy and all the way back to Norway—with a fully prepared fighting force–in five minutes of screen time. And Rollo’s motivation? The last thing Hvitserk said to his uncle was “Once a betrayer, always a betrayer.” Why he suddenly thinks Rollo is trustworthy enough to back him—rather than Bjorn who may have treated him with disdain but whom he has known and loved and respected far longer—is anyone’s guess. It’ll be interesting to see if Rollo’s about to teach Hvitserk a dangerous lesson. Certainly, the least dynamic of the Lothbrok boys has much to learn.
But the worst offensive treatment of our characters and their stories comes when we turn back to Meyers’ Bishop Heahmund and Lagertha. Throwing the two of them together has some interesting potential. They are strong actors and watching them play off each other as the bishop and the shieldmaiden found common ground could be delicious fun. But such a relationship would be something to savour, not rush through. Not that I object to the idea that Lagertha wouldn’t feel the need for a great deal of emotional foreplay, of course. She’s not exactly a shrinking violet when it comes to procuring a bedpartner. One of the biggest missed opportunities of the show was the aborted relationship between her and Ecbert, whom she had no trouble jumping into bed with but would never agree to be under his thumb. And the fact that neither she nor Heahmund are playing straight with each other (“I don’t know why I saved you.” “I will fight for you, Lagertha. I will die for you.” Oh, please…) would have made it even more interesting to watch.
But by again condensing that entire process into only three minutes of screen time, all of that potential is lost and instead, we are given trite spoken placeholders for what should have taken episodes. By the time we get to “I’ve known you my whole life” and “You really want to sin again?” it’s hard not to actively cringe at how ridiculous these lines are for these characters. It might be fine if we were given the impression that they both knew this was all a discussion done for show—that they winked at the fact that they are natural adversaries as they pretended to be so attracted to each other that neither could resist the temptation the other presented (and let’s face it, Winnick and Meyers are well matched in terms of desirability). It would be okay if it were clear that there were a whole other dance going on just below all this husky-voiced seduction. That would be completely in character. And a good writer, which Hirst has proven here in four seasons and most of The Tudors to be, could pull it off, maybe even in three minutes. But there’s nothing in their pivotal scene together to suggest he thought it worth his time. Instead, we get a second wasted opportunity in Lagertha’s love life.
At least Ubbe and Torvi had one night together. It seems clear that we’re going to lose Torvi next week (and likely Lagertha—whose departure could very well be the final nail in the Vikings coffin), so it was nice to see her with a man who appreciated her; I’ve always liked these two characters more than I think we are supposed to. I just hope that it’s not too much to ask for Margrethe to be taken out as viciously as she well deserves while we are at it. Hopefully before she kills the children left in her care (nothing would please me more than to see Erik or Refil pull a knife and kill her in her sleep for terrorizing them this week).
So while I think we are looking at some glorious deaths, plot twists, and betrayals next week (since that’s the show’s bread and butter), I don’t have high hopes that they will be executed as well as these characters and actors deserve. The writing is a key part of what captured us and held through four seasons of Vikings, but it’s pretty clear that its quality is in near freefall at this point. Depending on what they filmed, it’s possible that the second half of the season could still be saved by the editors. And they’ve been renewed for season six, but filming hasn’t begun, so that’s an opportunity as well. But for part one of season five? I think at this point we can safely say that this bit of Vikings is beyond redemption. And that’s almost as much of a tragedy as losing Ragnar himself.
Read Laura’s review of the previous episode, The Joke, here.