Goodbye Love, The Romeo and Juliet of 'Game of Thrones'

Game of Thrones lovers Grey Worm and Missandri survived countless battles, but fate had something fatal in store for them. 

"Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow," Juliet to Romeo.

After the most recent Game of Thrones' season eight episode The Last of the Starks, did we all cry into ice cream pints and watch the quixotic over pouring of Missandei and Grey Worm reminisce videos and read the limited fanfic over the course of the week? Maybe that was just me.

Missandei (Nathalie Emmanuel) innocently asking Grey Worm (Jacob Anderson) why the Unsullied visit brothels.

Game of Thrones, a deeply uncomfortable guilty pleasure (due mostly to treatment of women on-screen and lack thereof behind-the-scenes), managed to crawl into my heart with this brown version of Romeo and Juliet. The pure, gentle romance between Missandei of Naath, the translator fluent in nineteen languages and Grey Worm aka Torgo Nudho of the Summer Isles, the eunuch leader of the Unsullied soldiers came to a devastatingly unexpected conclusion. Their final scenes together consisted of him telling her to get to the skiff (even raising his voice), resulting in her kidnapping by Euron Greyjoy and later dying in chains right in front of Grey Worm at Cersei's call. A freed brown woman-- the only brown woman character who rarely has scenes and lines to begin with-- executed in chains? The writers knew exactly what they were doing here. This viciously cruel shock value continues eight seasons of objectifying women characters and killing off Missandei in that manner was downright unforgivable.

In No One, episode eight of season six, Tyrion gets the uptight and serious Missandei (Nathalie Emmanuel) and Grey Worm (Jacob Anderson) to tell bad jokes. 

Grey Worm is positively affected by Missandei's contagious laughter. They definitely don't have these unguarded, humanist moments enough.

In a supernatural fantasy realm that cannot imagine brown and Black bodies beyond slavery, from the beginning Missandei and Grey Worm were doomed. While Missandei remembered her past and being stolen away, Grey Worm recalled his cruel, military training. These two former slaves (now given crucial roles) were surrounded in what some perceived white saviorness fronted by The Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen. Whenever Missandei and Grey Worm were allotted screen time together, their feelings for each other were so quiet, so painstakingly obvious in its beguiling intensity. Down the memory road lane, their beginnings were like fruitful buds of spring, building during Missandei's "precious" common tongue lessons to Grey Worm. Things came to a rather amorous heed in The Mountain and the Viper, the seventh episode of season four. She catches him staring at her nude form. Later, he apologizes. Yet they both admit their happiness at him seeing her. Or in Kill the Boy, Missandei tearfully sits vigil at wounded Grey Worm's bedside. They confess their fears and share their first kiss. Their beautiful love scene in season seven, episode two’s Stormborn was almost overshadowed by stupid jokes about Grey Worm’s castration (because men still believe that penises are the only thing that can satisfy a woman’s sexual needs in 2019).

In Stormborn, Grey Worm (Jacob Anderson) admits why it is hard to say goodbye to Missandei (Nathalie Emmanuel).

Missandei and Grey Worm were everything that Still Star Crossed's Rosaline Capulet and Prince Escalus were not, embodying the skeletal framework of the Romeo and Juliet's forbidden story. Missandei and Grey Worm only loved the other, there was no third party except an endless war that meant frequent separation. In Stormborn, the second episode of the seventh season, Missandei visits Grey Worm to wish him a good journey and the tides turn quite honest and passionate. It is a poignant scene suspended in a very sense of intrusive voyeurism, as though this privacy must be guarded in secret, the softly delivered words, the undressing, their close up faces lit by candles. Grey Worm feels less than deserving of her due to castration. Still, Missandei accepts every part of him. Thus, in a sea of gratuitous white flesh, Grey Worm's bodily shame is dissolved through Missandei softly embracing his external as well as interval. Grey Worm then conveys his only physical way of loving her. This candidly expresses that the intimacy between man and woman can become an even more gratifying act when fulfilling the woman's pleasure becomes greater than sating his own. More importantly, Missandei understands why the Unsullied visit brothels. 

Grey Worm returns from battle and is next seen with Missandei riding through the snowy north of Winterfell experiencing terrible racism together. In A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, their dialogue was definitely red flag territory. Still, one couldn't resist holding onto hope despite characters (especially minor) having no real longevity. 

"When Daenerys takes her throne there will be no place for us here," Grey Worm states. "I am loyal to my queen. I will fight for her until her enemies are defeated, but when the war is over and she has won... do you want to grow old in this place? Is there nothing else you want to do, nothing else you want to see?" 

"Naath," Missandei replies. "I'd like to see the beaches again." 

"Then I will take you there." 

"My people are peaceful. We cannot protect ourselves." 

"My people are not peaceful. We will protect you."

Goodness gracious. How can one not cry? They're too beautiful for other words. And that searing kiss they share before he heads off to battle the undead….. ugh, the explicit promises their lips ravenously joined lips exhibited, as though this one kiss would be the last and another would be needed to suffice a seemingly eternal drought. 

Jacob Anderson and Nathalie Emmanuel at a Game of Thrones event.

While Missandei and Grey Worm are minor characters often flushed silently in the background, have rare time to converse and revel as opposed to the main counterparts of the television series, they brought an endearing rootability thanks to the spellbinding portrayals by Nathalie Emmanuel and Jacob Anderson. They gave so much in that granted screen time. With her thick brows, intelligent brown eyes, and clipped articulation, Emmanuel plays the strong, resilient Missandei, a genuine, loving kindred to Anderson's stoic face and heavy accented Grey Worm, whose disposition remarkably evolves from resolute to affectionate. They put such attentive grace into rendering a heartfelt love story rife with all degrees of tenderness and respect. Every stolen scene in eyes and body language is conveyed due to their believably expressive commitment. Although they will not garner the big awards and media attention, Emmanuel and Anderson deserve any praise granted their way. Kudos to them for the incredible resonance that they've brought to this otherwise dark and complicated show. Their characters represented a humbling devotion and brilliant light in a gritty world of monstrous ugliness, vehement greed, and senseless evil. 

In The Last of the Starks, unbeknownst to Grey Worm and Missandei, this precious serenity on the boat will be their last time together. Damn it. All she wanted to do was see the white beaches of Naath with her lover.

A captured, death sentenced Missandei (Nathalie Emmanuel) gazes at Grey Worm one last time.

A helpless, devastated Grey Worm (Jacob Anderson) looks right back at Missandei, before turning away at the grisly sight of her unjust execution. It is the most emotional displays, he has ever exhibited.

Whether or not the utterly broken Grey Worm falls in upcoming battle within these two final episodes, one thing is certain-- he is the lone brown figure now. His other Unsullied will not have a voice. And Missandei, who spoke for her queen, has been snuffed out to further a lopsided plot.

Missandei deserved better. Grey Worm deserved better. The brown and Black people who watched for them deserved better.

'Selah and The Spades' Contextualizes A Black Woman Villain

Selah and the Spades still.

Jared Leto and Joaquin Phoenix are both starring in solo Joker films after Jack Nicholson and Heath Ledger played the popular psychotic Batman nemesis respectively. Needless to say, Hollywood seems to be passing on promoting new, original villain stories, especially villain stories that are not consecutive executions of the same, rehashed white male character. Well, Tayarisha Poe's Selah and the Spades is a refreshing take on the foundation of evil. The foundation can appear normal outside, but the psychological effects are teasingly explored through its leading lady Selah.

The Haldwell cheerleading squad own every bit of their identity from the outfits, routines, individual hairstyles. No one, especially men, can dictate these young women on how to act accordingly or who to be. Yes, a slap to respectability politics indeed.

With killer box braids and baby hairs on point, Selah Summers is a confident seventeen-year-old senior at the upscale Haldwell Boarding School in Philadelphia. Maxxie, her level-headed sidekick, stays seamlessly at her side. Selah and Maxxie lead the Spades sector of the five fractions, an underground society that penalizes betrayal of the order. The Spades are responsible for booze, powders, pills, and fun, the Seas are teacher's pets gone rogue, the Skins deal in gambling mostly school sports, the Bobbys plan illegal dorm parties, and the Prefects keep administration unaware of the ongoings. The Spades are the highest authority. In the meantime, Selah and the cheerleading team choreograph their own dance routines and decide the length and cut of their uniforms. She entails this to the new sophomore, Paloma-- a photographer capturing all the campus excitement. Selah is immediately drawn to her, taking the younger, reserved girl into the dark, privileged corners of boarding school life. Paloma sees that the Spades run a sleek drug operation including making trips to dangerous Fishtown for refills. This uncovered world seduces Paloma, her arousing fascination snapped by her attentive professional camera. She is constantly at the side of Selah and Maxxie, a third wheel fixed mostly to Selah. Slowly and surely, however, Paloma's desire for Maxxie to leave the picture becomes clear.

Now behind some girls is a mother who wants the very best for her daughter. Selah's dessert baking mom, Mrs. Summers hides a sharp malice beneath a false cheery persona-- one that Selah has certainly inherited. For example, Selah has scored a 93% (give or take an A or A-). Instead of congratulations, Mrs. Summers asks, "what happened to the other 93%?" Selah falters at this disappointed tone, formulating excuses, breaking like glass in this isolated moment in her dorm room. Here lies the torturous source of Selah's weakness. Later, in an uncomfortable home visit, Selah is coaxed into coring an apple for her mother's pies and accidentally cuts her hand. As Mrs. Summers wraps Selah's wound with a towel, the mood seems altogether chilly and intense. Selah's sudden doubt, resentment, and despair manifest, having no place to escape except internally, fueling her within. Yet Mrs. Summers has the sunniest smile on her face.

"It'll put you in your place," Mrs. Summers darkly says of Redwood College.

Mrs. Summers makes Redwood sound like a simultaneous boot camp, mental hospital, and prison. Ah, if only she could see how alive Selah is on the Haldwell campus, consumed with power lust. Everyone fears Selah's wrath-- she has some pretty violent tendencies. Although Maxie knows her crimes, others have hunches or guesses that cannot be proven (or want to be investigated). Meanwhile Paloma and Selah's intimacy has grown tremendously. Selah thrives on having the upper hand, the highest card possible, but her friendship forces Paloma outside of her good girl comfort zone. Selah also speaks frankly on relationships, admitting that she avoids the "reasons why girls cry in bathrooms," perhaps hinting asexuality. In Paloma, however, Selah sees that they are one and the same and grips tightly onto Paloma's presence, often aggressively possessive. Their eyes join softly, their faces sometimes close and charged. This is partly Selah's manipulation tactics, pulling Paloma deeper and deeper into forbidden territory, studying the breaking point.

Paloma (Celeste O'Connor), Selah (Lovie Simone), and Maxxie (Jharrel Jerome) operate as a conjoined unit for a limited time.

Unfortunately, Selah's insecurities take a larger hold. Fueled by both resounding disappointment and impervious jealousy, she does harmful things to those closest to her. Though Maxxie and Paloma pay ultimate prices, in solitary scenes, Selah reveals her capability of guilt, abandonment and fear contributors of her young madness.

Among this intriguing, original narrative and solid musical choices, certain scenes stand out like artful stills, the lights and colors lingering in the mind. The senior prank has arranged serenely colored water in glasses filling up the stairs, Selah and Paloma interact between red fringe tendrils that drift on the dimly lit school stage where they have set up Macbeth production; scenic nature is transformed into a pop up prom in the woods. The attention to detail is commendable, the environments and materials sophisticatedly woven in these environments heightening the film's integrity.

The trifecta: Paloma (Celeste O'Connor), Selah (Lovie Simone), and Maxxie (Jharrel Jerome). 

The well-ensembled cast performances are outstanding. Lovie Simone, (Greenleaf's Zora) who Poe said was originally to be Paloma, has starring charisma as Selah, a girl feigning strength, studying hard, and hating to lose control of power. Now isn't that quite Mabethian? One particular scene has Selah staring at a smiling photograph of herself. Simone is able to convincingly express Selah's need to copy in the mirror, to look hard at a photograph and attempt to manufacture an emotion that only Paloma finds. Jharrel Jerome (Moonlight's teenage Kevin) is the devoted Maxxie. He has sweet qualities, but in the end, he is an accessory to crime. During a horrific fight, Maxxie finally divulges Selah's problematic insecurities in a fit of rage. Jerome renders Maxxie with resentment and pain, most importantly conveying Maxxie's hurt inflamed by an undeniable love for Selah. Relative newcomer Celeste C. Connor is an impressionable Paloma, the following strumpet, the photographer with a perceptive artist eye. Jesse Williams excels as the gruffy bearded Haldwell Headmaster often caught up in the humorous teenage mischief and Gina Torres (Firefly and Serenity's Zoe and Suits and upcoming Pearson's Jessica-- the first Afro Latina to star in a U.S. TV series) gives a solid cameo as Mrs. Summers, a mother whose sinister knife hold suggests more than just prepping apples for pie.

Selah and the Spades writer/director Tayarisha Poe.

Selah and the Spades is a solid contemporary take that has a Cruel Intentions meets Bring It On vibe. Selah is like Cruel Intentions' Kathryn Merteuil without the sex and drug addiction, mentoring Paloma, grooming her almost in a Kathryn and Celeste proverbial fashion that explores the depth of human closeness, of young women closeness. Selah hasn't kissed anyone much less ventured further while Paloma has experimented. Both innocent girls of color, which media often portrays as experienced, wild, and wanton, are considerably drawn to each other. Selah shares Bring It On's Isis's traits, her remarkable leadership, intelligence, and fire. If only Isis were given a bigger storyline and turned a wee bit villainous....

Poe's incredible writing style exceptionally screams womanist. Her women are assured and vulnerable, they're deep and complex, angry without stigma, they have dialogue more than about men and male gaze. Selah is such a bad, bad girl, but her naughtiness is so damn irresistible, satisfying in a secret way. By the end, one understands her convictions. We want her to win somehow, to beat odds, rebel against her mother's higher than heaven's gates expectations.

Selah receives a nasty comeuppance. The final shot's residue contains the struck villain, seeming capable of redeeming herself, of finding a new ground to land. And it is the three teenagers-- Selah, Maxxie, and Paloma wrapping their arms around each other. These two people are Selah's to hold dear if she truly opened up and allowed them a real space to occupy.

Yes, clues left and right flicker towards hating Selah, resenting her at least. She is evil. She inadvertently causes perilous harm. Yet Selah is unlike typical villains. She is a vulnerable, scared, and unapologetically Black female teenager, a product of her environment, an otherwise Shakespearean tragedy. That tragedy being a vitriolic combination of boarding school elitism and meddling mothers that would likely poison pies on a bad day.

'Dirty Computer: The Emotion Picture,' Queer Freedom In The Dark Times of Metropolis

Dirty Computer: An Emotion Picture poster.

Nine years ago, from June to August, I house sat for an old friend in Denver, Colorado and got turned on to Janelle Monaè's The ArchAndroid. My friend and my visiting younger sister had both been to Monaè's concerts and squealed with delight over her impressive onstage performance. I finally experienced her some years later, front row-- she was coincidentally promoting Electric Lady at Electric Factory. In the five foot, dark brown skinned woman with 4C hair, decked in black and white, hitting note after note and dancing with vivacious energy, I saw myself mingling alongside a kindred spirit.

Captured Jane 57821 (Janelle Monaè) is given the traumatic "Nevermind" treatment.

This sheer gas helps in purifying the "dirty" mind.

Last year, Dirty Computer, Monaè's fourth album (if counting the unlabeled release of hard-to-find The Audition), arrived with a special musical "emotion picture" debut, unveiling journalistic confessional as opposed to the unique third person feeling of earlier albums. Monaè is now embedded in the contemporary world, frankly speaking on sexuality, racism, and gender. Monaè has always created great, revolutionary music videos. Cold War, Many Moons, and Q.U.E.E.N. are iconic.

"....you were dirty if you showed any opposition at all." 

Despite what naysayers entail, Monaè's Jane 57621 has not departed.

Jane (Janelle Monaè) performing rituals on gold girls in Crazy, Classic, Life.

Jane is feeling Zen's vibe.

Dirty Computer begins inside a cold, sterile facility straight out of pseudo science fiction. Droids are systematically cleaned, rid of their "dirt," brainwashed into Stepford monstrosities. The taken Jane is air floated in, prepared to be wiped. The first "memory" is Crazy, Classic, Life, a funky upbeat jam featuring Jane in bantu knots, studded black jacket, white tutu dress, and killer rainbow eye shadow. Her and her massive posse party hard in the desert, free spirited and alive, thriving and pulsing as romantic ceremonies take place. Jane's two loves are introduced-- Chè and Zen. Of course, the joy is interrupted by policing droids and people are ruthlessly captured-- captured for cleaning.

Heartbroken Jane (Janelle Monaè) is told by a brainwashed Zen (Tessa Thompson) that she doesn't remember her.

At the compound, Zen and Jane reunite. Unfortunately, Zen is now an Apple bot-- seemingly relieved of any memory. Behind the glass, two white men are in charge of cleaning Jane-- one of them appears new and reluctant in deleting these bright, daring "memories" tinged in beautiful vocals, profound lyrics, and intelligent raps. The Queen Mother, the dynamic commanding force of the whole operation, is also white. Although a woman is in power, she is abusing it to keep the society unadulterated, hurting Jane and others to usurp their agency and personal beliefs.

Take a Byte starts up and yes that hypnotic beat makes one want to dance. The snippet shows Jane upside down suspended in neon ties that change color. In the dichotomous Screwed, Jane and her pals invade artsy spaces. She wears a "Subject Not Object," clearly a Guerilla Girls reference (most art museums across the globe have more works by men with women as content than women artists in these actual spaces). They race down abandoned escalators, race past graffiti walls, and watch avant-garde videos. The free and wild crew are once again hunted down and Zen is taken. However, the white men are not wiping Jane's memories in sequential order (Zen is in later "memories").

Django Jane weaves in next, a snippet of Screwed fading before and after the track. In warm enchanted rooms, defiant women surrounding her as a protective she-tribe, Jane raps this entire song, exchanging the signature tailored black and white suits for fitted turquoise, bright red, and mauve suits, jewels on her fingers, wearing gold crowned caps like Queen Latifah.

Jane and her Black Girl Magic dancers in Pynk directed by Emma Westenberg.

Make Me Feel and Pynk are visually stimulating liberation anthems. Make Me Feel is an energetic number that has various style changes-- Jane in a jacket, the sequin headpiece that serves as Dirty Computer's album cover, sheer flower pants, polka dot lipstick. Jane dances with both Zen and Chè, continually illustrating the immense fluidity emerging between her fervor for both. Monaè's Pynk vocals are high pitched, like the sounds of candy coated sweetness superseding the sporadic images flowing between romance and middle fingers straight up. Jane addresses feminine empowerment and poetically professes her love for Zen here. Jane and Zen's moments define a tender and affectionate intimacy, demonstrated mostly by those yearning soap opera stares and subtle touches. Meanwhile, Jane candidly slaps the current tyrant in chief with messages on her underwear. Both define women's control over her own body and her own desire--often systematically controlled by men. She seeks her pleasure wherever and whenever she wants and with whomever she chooses.

Still from Diango Jane directed by Andrew Donoho and Chuck Lightning.

A mighty leader of the table-- still from Django Jane directed by Andrew Donoho and Chuck Lightning. 

I Like That, my personal favorite, is a self-love confidence manifesto. With giant black and white twists and a crisp white shirt, Jane is in lecture hall with replicas of herself, not giving a chuck about how anyone sees her past or present. Later, images aesthetically nod to Mickalene Thomas setups and African artist photography and sculpture. Again, Jane is solely in the presence of Black women, situating with those who will uplift and guide her. Simultaneously, alone, she is assured and powerful.

A class of Janes to let them all know that is girl should be rated higher than a six.

For all the girls who were ever called "weird," you're the shizz.

Back at the compound, Jane's memories appear fully erased. She mirrors the behavior of Apple-- all sugary sweet and squeaky clean. Dre is brought in, recognizing Jane once he comes to. Everything ends in a surprising yet liberating exclamation point.

A trio of lovers hit the beach: Chè (Jayson Aaron), Jane (Janelle Monaè), and Zen (Tessa Thompson).

Chè (Jayson Aaron) and Jane (Janelle Monaè).

A stolen tender kiss between Zen (Tessa Thompson) and Jane (Janelle Monaè). 

Dirty Computer is an impressive pictorial dystopia remarking on the blatant sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and racism. The triad of Janelle Monaè, Tessa Thompson, and Jayson Aaron are convincing unity. Monaè has acting chops indeed-- her expressive doe eyes and trembling voice among the compelling components of her talent. Plus, her chemistry with Thompson and Aaron are ripe with vulnerability, devotion, passion, and need. Each music video defies the current political climate harming countless vulnerable communities. While excellently showcasing the unlimited creative range of Black culture through uniquely diverse hair styles, epic clothing choices, and expertly designed makeup, afrofuturistic Dirty Computer intertwines wounds Black people carry in society, the situations that haunt and trigger, the policing and gaslighting. It expresses Black love and joy, the safe places to discover and keep hold. Furthermore, this visual masterpiece brilliantly expresses the validity of our individual selves. We must retain control of our minds in a world that continuously damages our psyches in ways that are not minimal.

If she is the G.O.A.T., would anyone doubt it? If it is Janelle Monaè, the answer is no.