'A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms' review: 'Game of Thrones' prequel is a surprising comfort watch
The last thing you'd ever expect a Game of Thrones show to be is comforting.
After all, comforts are few and far between in Game of Thrones and its prequel, House of the Dragon. In those series, you'd be lucky to get through an episode without witnessing some combination of graphic violence, rape, or torture.
Yet "comforting" is exactly the word that comes to mind when I think of HBO's latest Game of Thrones spin-off, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. A lighter, smaller-scale series based on George R.R. Martin's Tales of Dunk and Egg novellas, it's the best antidote for any fatigue you may feel at the thought of spending more time in the grimdark reaches of Westeros.
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A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms isn't like any other Game of Thrones show.
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms sets itself apart from its predecessors right away, literally taking a dump on the swelling notes of Ramin Djawadi's beloved Game of Thrones theme.
Don't view the poop gag as a slight on Game of Thrones or House of the Dragon, though. It's more a way of recalibrating expectations. Few of the hallmarks you associate with other Westeros-set shows are on display in A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. There's no backstabbing politicking in the Red Keep's side rooms, no vast roster of fantasy locations to rotate between, and certainly no dragons.
But you know what A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms has that Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon don't? A very tall, very sweet man. And that turns out to be exactly what Westeros as a franchise needs.
Ser Duncan the Tall is Westeros' next great hero.
That tall, sweet man is none other than Ser Duncan "Dunk" the Tall (Peter Claffey). He used to squire for the wandering hedge knight Ser Arlan of Pennytree (Danny Webb), but upon his master's death in the show's opening moments, Dunk takes up the mantle of knight and heads to a tournament at Ashford Meadow. There, he hopes to forge his own path as a knight and gain a little coin in the process.
Dunk isn't the kind of hero we've come to expect from the Game of Thrones universe. He doesn't come from a noble house, he's not the most formidable fighter, and he's not even particularly bright. ("Dunk the Lunk, thick as a castle wall" is a common refrain in Martin's novellas.) Yet what Dunk lacks in those departments, he more than makes up for in a key way: He's damn kind.
See, for Dunk, knighthood isn't about glory or battles. It's about protecting the defenseless and doing what's right — and after two seasons spent with House of the Dragon's Criston Cole, that integrity feels like a gale force blast of fresh air straight up the nostrils. Yet Dunk's sense of honor doesn't manifest in a stuffy do-gooder attitude. Rather, it radiates from his (very) tall frame in waves of warmth that Dunk doesn't quite know what to do with. Raised in the eat-or-be-eaten slums of Flea Bottom, and often belittled or even beaten by Ser Arlan, he can't fathom that he's actually good. Claffey plays this self-doubt with endearing bashfulness, often shrinking his considerable height as if he's ashamed to take up space in the world. Yet many of the people Dunk meets as Ashford Meadow recognize he's special, from the carousing Lyonel Baratheon (Daniel Ings) to a mysterious bald boy simply known as Egg (Dexter Sol Ansell).
Egg takes it upon himself to become Dunk's squire, much to Dunk's initial chagrin. He's just become a knight himself, and now he has to babysit an insolent child? Soon, though, the pair develops a lovely odd-couple partnership: Dunk, tall as can be, with barely a wise bone in his body, and Egg, scrawny and small, yet surprisingly worldly (and with a sharp tongue, to boot). Claffey and Ansell are a gift together, whether they're trading barbs in the middle of a rowdy tournament or enjoying a quiet moment under the stars. Not since Sandor Clegane and Arya Stark has Westeros seen such a memorable lone wolf and cub duo — although here, the pairing is immediately off to a sweeter start, as the cub doesn't want to murder the lone wolf. (He might sass him, though.)
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms finds greatness in the small things.
The sweetness of Dunk and Egg's burgeoning friendship really shines thanks to A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms' smaller scale. We rarely leave the tourney grounds at Ashford Meadow, which A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms' production team renders in lived-in glory, all muddy tents and worn armor. These well-used elements create a grounded atmosphere where hard-working smallfolk find joy, either from watching the jousts on the sidelines or enjoying beautifully crafted puppet shows. Given that prior onscreen portrayals of Westeros have mostly focused on times of war, it's soothing to witness these smaller moments of everyday life and leisure.
This isn't to say A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is free of conflict and action. The show boasts some captivating jousting sequences, as well as some hand-to-hand combat that's among the most visceral in all of the franchise. Elsewhere, the Targaryens show up and cause drama, as they are wont to do.
But even then, the focus is primarily on Dunk and Egg's relationship, and the solidarity they find with the people they've crossed paths with. That's A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms in a nutshell: good people trying to help each other out the best they can. It's a welcome switch-up in HBO's Game of Thrones lineup, and proof that the world of Westeros can be more than just a brutal cage match between warring families. More than that, though, it's a balm for the soul.
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms premieres Jan. 18 at 10 p.m. ET on HBO and HBO Max.
Belen Edwards is an Entertainment Reporter at Mashable. She covers movies and TV with a focus on fantasy and science fiction, adaptations, animation, and more nerdy goodness. She is a member of the Critics Choice Association and the Television Critics Association, as well as a Tomatometer-approved critic.
