[KcMizzou]

Pretty good bit about Cesei from Grantland.

“First of His Name” was the best showcase for Cersei — and Lena Headey, the brilliant actress who plays the character the way a lightning bolt plays a tree — in some time. Though her actions were, as ever, limited to the Red Keep, Cersei’s wine-stained fingerprints were present in nearly every scene. This was an episode that dealt explicitly with one of the series’ central conceits: that the stories we tell children offer no preparation for the unscripted harshness of life. As the narrative winged, like a three-eyed raven, from point to point on the map, we saw again and again how the aspirations of the youngest characters — which is to say the most hopeful; which is also to say the most naive — are continually tested by the unexpected depths of the world they’ve been born into. Arya with her dance routines, Sansa with her pastries, Jon with his honor, Daenerys with her noble obstinance: All were smacked in the face last night by something heavier than the back of the Hound’s hand: reality.

Cersei, by contrast, has no illusions left to lose. Moments after watching her second son take the Iron Throne, she made it clear that she knew all too well just who and what her firstborn was. It was an amazing scene, there in the Sept: Margaery making kitten eyes at the cat-fancying Tommen, then holding her ground like a mean girl as her once and future mother-in-law brushed up beside her. But for once, Cersei came in peace. The cynical part of me — a.k.a. the part that would survive five minutes longer in Westeros than the rest of me (thus bringing my total survival time to five minutes) — knew that this was just Phase 1 in Cersei’s three-point plan to butter up Tyrion’s judges like a pie dish. But I was also transfixed at the way Cersei seemed to be undertaking such a cynical task without the slightest trace of cynicism: She really does want Tommen to succeed; she truly believes that he will need help from someone other than herself. Margaery misread the overture as kindness — “sister” is not necessarily a cool thing to call Cersei; just ask the guy rotting in the dungeon — but that’s to be expected: She’s basically a child herself. Though she has buried two husbands before sleeping with either of them, Margaery still seems to possess a youthful confidence that things will eventually work out. Did you notice the way she subtly backed away from Cersei as they spoke? It didn’t seem like fear. Rather, her clenched body language reminded me of a healthy person during hospital visiting hours. It was as if Margaery feared that Cersei’s poisonous nature was contagious. Little did she know that venom is the only thing keeping Cersei alive.

In the end, the Queen Regent played all the judges expertly, like a wedding band strumming “The Rains of Castamere.” Sympathy from the Tyrells was easy enough; all it cost her was a child she’d already lost. And she had nothing to fear from Oberyn, a sun-stroked warrior-poet who gets to keep all of his children, **** anyone in sight, and never change out of his pajamas. More impressive was Cersei’s approach to her father. Up until now, the biggest saps on Game of Thrones weren’t the Starks, they were anyone foolish enough to cross Tywin Lannister from across the Iron Desk. But Cersei drew blood by reminding her father of her own. With Tyrion in chains and Jaime in self-imposed exile, the circumstance was right for Cersei to play the loyal daughter. And so without even finishing her wine, she parroted her father’s bromides about family (“The Lannister legacy is the only thing that matters”) and even feigned interest in his hobbies. I found Tywin’s explanation of the Iron Bank of Braavos fascinating. Cersei had the look of someone at a cocktail party having model trains explained to them. (Sidebar: Do you think Tywin is going to regret his family’s cool motto? “The Lannisters are rarely late with their quarterly interest payments” doesn’t inspire much fear, but nor does it make irony-appreciating bill collectors salivate.) Either way, Tywin seemed charmed. Like Cersei, he wants to believe the best about his children, even when all evidence points to the contrary.

Two weeks later, Jaime’s raping of his twin sister continues to fuel articles and argument. But I think it’s best to consider it as only the latest horrific act of violence to be visited on a woman who has been violated, in one way or another, her entire life. Dooming Tyrion isn’t about the truth. It’s about asserting control. While Margaery schemes and Tywin smirks and Prince Oberyn dips his quill at his leisure, Cersei sacrifices her pride and quite possibly more for a purely selfish desire. The justice she craves isn’t for Joffrey; it’s for herself. I’m haunted by the words she said by the harbor, staring out at the fairy-tale boat built for the daughter she was forced to give up: “Everywhere in the world they hurt little girls.”

http://grantland.com/hollywood-prosp...i-season-four/