This review contains spoilers.
5.8 The Joke
In The Joke, the Vikings (and their allies) are at each other’s throats as the battle for the kingdom of Kattegat got under way. What should have been a surprise to no one who has followed the series is that the last third of the episode—the actual battle—is far less interesting than the middle third, which is devoted to the pre-fight negotiation.
Usually, this would be due to the way that Vikings has chosen to depict battle scenes. Michael Hirst and his directors have largely taken the pragmatic step of sticking to the history in this arena. Most Viking forces were brutal but small. The point, after all, was rarely to conquer and hold land. It was to get in, take what you could, and get out. Even in a case where the intent was arguably to semi-permanently conquer, as with the Great Heathen Army we saw last season, this great fighting force probably numbered around 3,000 fighters. After all, each Viking ship only held around 30 souls, so it would have required almost 100 ships just to deliver such a force to the eastern coast of England. So the fact that most battles on Vikings have suggested no more a few hundred Vikings is historically accurate.
The directors have thus chosen to keep the battles small and only rarely to give us the long shots that would take in the entire fighting force. Instead, these fights have been shot close-up, and often focused fairly tightly on familiar characters whose fates we are invested in. These close shots have included plenty of images of axes embedding themselves in the chests and backs of warriors, and lots of one-on-one combat. They’ve captured the chaos, speed, and unmerciful fighting style of the Vikings.
What they largely have not done, until this week, however, is to be gratuitous. Close-ups of an eye-gouging, the depiction of a man screaming as he holds the remains of an arm that was been effectively severed, the head exploding into bloody gore as it is smashed in by a hammer—these are a step further than Vikings has tended to go, and with good reason. They don’t add anything to the battles, and can distract from what’s most important. We know that these things occur. Even if none of us had seen the first few minutes of Saving Private Ryan—where the whole point was to shock the audience by forcing us to look at the reality of war up close (especially in a battle that we have so mythologised)—it doesn’t take any imagination to picture the blood and gore that come with every swing of a sword or axe that hits home. Taking the time to show it in any detail is unnecessary.
What it does do is break the flow of the battle, and pulls our focus from the two things that we really care about: the overall progress of the fight, and how our main characters are doing in that fight. We are interested in the strategy, since this is where Ivar and Lagertha—the two real forces behind the two sides—both excel. And we’ve never had our sides so evenly drawn between main characters: our excitement about this battle is all about seeing them face off. Perhaps the gratuitousness this week is purely diversionary: it’s all about distracting us from the fact that none of those characters meet on the field. The best moment is when they come closest to it: when Harald and Halfdan taunt each other from a few yards away. And it is nice to see Torvi fighting alongside Guthrum and that Bjorn’s field trips have not weakened or dulled him as a fighter. But it’s no substitute for the one-on-one fights that we have enjoyed (and been most invested in) in the past.
Which is why the second third of the episode is far and away the best. While we do get, in the beginning of the episode, the handoff of Bjorn and Torvi’s children to the care of Margrethe who has every reason to want them dead as well as the ominous scene in which she sings to them of love while possibly planning on murdering them (and oh, how sweet it would be to see Bjorn and especially Torvi get revenge if she does), it’s not until Lagertha proclaims, on the precipice of the battle, that it is wrong for Ragnar’s sons to destroy each other, that things begin to pick up.
And that’s because her truce puts all those characters we care about together and in a far more involving kind of conflict: one in which estranged brothers and lovers are reunited, loyalties are interrogated, and each player gets the opportunity to speak his or her piece. They haven’t all been in the same place since last season, and a great deal has happened since the Army left Kattegat. The negotiation gives us insight into what the battle they are about to fight really means to them both as individuals and in their joint stances towards the other side.
The main focus is on what being brothers means within this world. It may seem that all the philosophising really breaks down into the two primary arguments—Harald and Ubbe insisting that brotherhood should assume loyalty, while Ivar and Halfdan insist that it does not—but the actual arguments made on each side are more complicated than that. This is where the real battle is fought.
Lagertha and Bjorn aren’t as concerned with brotherhood specifically as they are about a larger fealty to family. Both call for all the sons of Ragnar to remember that, and Ragnar’s legacy, should be what they all worthy to fight and die for. One might doubt Lagertha’s sincerity, were it not for the fact that she has repeatedly not put down the younger sons of her ex-husband, even when they swore they’d take revenge on her for the death of their mother. She’s had plenty of opportunity, but despite Ragnar’s betrayal of her, she’s done her best to make peace with his children by her usurper. And Bjorn, raised by his mother to love the father who replaced her with another, has always seen himself as one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, rather than insisting on his primacy as firstborn, looking out for his brothers…even the one(s) who thirst for his mother’s blood.
Ubbe is closest to their camp, recognising that their father’s throne and Kattegat will only be thrown into chaos by the desire of Ivar and Hvitserk (to a lesser extent) for revenge. He is the one who has always acted as the older brother, and his attempt to get Hvitserk to reconsider his allegiances falls on his brother’s deaf ears because, while Ubbe has always seemed to have a sense of purpose, the young Lothbrok, bereft of any particular focus, seems to see himself as a boat adrift, carried (as Floki would have it) on the current of the gods’ whims rather than piloted by someone with any power to affect his own fate. While Ubbe treats his father’s legacy as more important even than the drive for justice (in killing Lagertha), to Hvitserk, being born into this family seems to feel like pure chance. It’s hard to be passionate about what feels completely random.
And while Halfdan and Ivar seem to come to the same conclusion about brotherhood—that it does not demand absolute allegiance—their reasons for that are very different. After all, Ivar cannot, at this point, either expect or offer allegiance to a relationship that he has so thoroughly decimated. His murder of Sigurd might have been impetuous, but that doesn’t mean it was avoidable. Sigurd didn’t understand that, to Ivar, a Viking doesn’t owe loyalty to anyone. To him, a Viking is driven by a thirst for personal glory. Thus his life was, in the end, no more sacred to Ivar than any other life. Despite having spent time with his father when Ragnar was painfully aware of what his self-centredness had cost his family, Ivar seems to have learned nothing from what his father lost. And has never valued what he had. Thus he cannot hear the truth of Lagertha’s warning to him: “Win or lose, you lose.”
Halfdan, on the other hand, does actually value his relationship with his brother, despite having been Rollo to Harald’s Ragnar. It’s been made clear that Harald, who longs for love, doesn’t appreciate it in another but just as tangible form from his brother. He’s taken Halfdan’s loyalty, as well as his service, for granted. He has failed to recognise that his brother has spent years sacrificing himself to Harald’s dreams of glory. He believes Halfdan owes him because he is his brother and thus has done nothing to earn that loyalty. As a result, Halfdan essentially has no life of his own… until it is saved by Bjorn. It’s hardly surprising that Halfdan would feel greater allegiance to someone who treated his life as a valuable thing rather than something at their disposal. And Harald seals the deal when he strikes his Halfdan, telling him that perhaps
This week’s battle is only the opening salvo in the fight to determine exactly what the limits of what it means to be brothers… genetically or in arms. Harald’s unwillingness to put aside his dream of Kattegat for his brother’s sake and Ivar’s selfishness (cowardice) in refusing to back Harald (and Hvitserk, whom Ivar, as a great tactician had to have known would be in a vulnerable position) have, for the moment, dealt them a well-deserved blow. But then, we have seen that Ivar is always most dangerous when he under pressure. The look that Astrid shoots him when they learn the battle is lost leaves little doubt that she will share his treachery with her “husband.” If showrunner Hirst and director Daniel Grou focus on the strained loyalties and machinations of all concerned (rather than the actual battles) of their main players in the next two episodes, we could be looking at an exciting and powerful mid-season finale.
Read Laura’s review of the previous episode, Full Moon, here.