Jawnts: Enjoy 'Thrones' with friends at Frankford Hall

Television shows are traditionally enjoyed at home, alone or with a chosen few compatriots. Of course, people will hit the local tavern for sports or presidential debates, but collective viewings of dramatic programming only came into vogue in the last decade.

Rallying 'round the bar with a mass of fellow fans seems part of TV's new golden age, with the first gatherings in honor of The Sopranos, the progenitor of today's prestige TV. The newly minted tradition had continued with Mad Men (until the recent series finale) but will go on this Sunday night and next with Game of Thrones.

The medieval fantasy show is perhaps an odd choice for such festivities. It espouses a worldview of, to put it mildly, unremitting horror. There are many scenes that are best consumed alone, in the dark, while huddled in a corner. Perhaps that's part of the very reason why people want to watch it together. Misery loves company.

On a recent Sunday night, a small group of die-hard fans - most of them hived off into their own social cliques - gathered around a bar pretty close to 9, when Game of Thrones airs. As so frequently happens when alcohol is consumed, conversations were becoming progressively louder as witching hour approached, leading devotees to fear that it would be impossible to hear their favorite characters getting brutally murdered. "It's a bar, what do you expect?" the bartender said, in a matter-of-fact and not-at-all-reassuring tone.

But once the clock hit 9, the room turned eerily silent. Fifteen pairs of eyes were riveted to the screen, which helpfully included subtitles, even though the volume was turned all the way up. The only sounds were muffled gasps and periodic cackles. During the breathtaking action sequence that made up the final 15 minutes of the show, not a sound could be heard - until a regular burst through the door demanding refreshment. Uncowed by the silent supplication of Thrones fans, his persistent questioning peppered the episode's final moments: "Are you guys OK?" and "Why is everyone so [redacted] quiet?" As the show ended, and conversation picked up again, he remarked: "I guess you guys aren't as into this show." (The comedy Silicon Valley had begun to play on the screens above the bar.)

Mass TV screenings do not seem to have the same cultural cache in Philadelphia as they do in New York or Chicago. In those cities, a few bars have received cease-and-desist orders from HBO, mostly, it seems, because the establishments were charging for entrance. There are no reports so far that bars in Philly have received any such missives.

Frankford Hall, 1210 Frankford Ave., shows Game of Thrones every Sunday to crowds ranging in size from 35 to 75. (Before the showings began, management sought legal advice and so far has had no problems.) There is no charge to watch the show, although members of the group Barwithme.tv pay $3 online to get happy-hour prices on all of the Hall's substantially sized draft beers. The weekly bloodletting begins at 9.