Note: This post contains spoilers through the May 1 episode of Game of Thrones.

For a show whose reputation has been ubiquitous with violence, sex, and special effects — Ian McShane’s non-CoC-compliant quip is funny for a reason — Game of Thrones often succeeds most when it offers relatively quiet moments requiring little more than two actors, a good script, and a competent director operating on something resembling a normal budget. Examples are easier to find than one might think.

From the first season, consider Robert and Cersei’s wine-fueled rumination on their disastrous marriage or Catelyn’s confronting her grieving son, Robb, after the latter learns of his father’s execution. These scenes very nearly could have played on network TV. And if we’re willing to make allowance for some sex or violence, the best of those moments weren’t the loudest or most bombastic, but the quietest. Consider the surprising tenderness of the scene where Robb learns that Talia is pregnant; When Catelyn stands defeated and silent at the end of the Red Wedding; or even when Night’s King strides to the end of the dock and wordlessly — terrifyingly — raises his arms, reanimating the fallen wights and newly-dead alike. There are many others.

Last night’s episode — which I found very uneven for reasons well-described by Alyssa Rosenberg — was book-ended by two such moments, one of which I appreciated at the time, the other of which grew on me. The first was Bran’s vision of his father and uncle as boys, sparing in their family home, Winterfell, when they’re interrupted by their sister on horseback. Very little of consequence happens among the earlier generation, but seeing back to a better time when people who met such awful ends were still young, hopeful, and happy — and in a place that later became associated with such horror — was deeply affecting, both for Bran and for us.

The other moment came at the end of the episode with Jon’s resurrection. At the time, my fanboy’s brain was in overdrive, trying to anticipate the particulars of how this long-predicted-but-much-speculated-of event would happen. Was Melisandre going to have to sacrifice burn someone? Herself? Will any of the specifics of the Azor Ahai prophecy come into play? Will Jon warg into Ghost first? To the show’s immense credit, they brought Jon back as possible: a few incantations from Melisandre, the playing of the R’hllor Theme, wordless departures from a variety of disappointed parties, and having the young hero return from death terrified and alone. When I thought about all the extravagant, loud, FX-driven ways they could have done it, I realized they handled it nearly perfectly.

Game of Thrones would not work without at least occasional forays into TV-MA territory; the violence and brutality are too central to the story. But it’s good to know that had they been forced into greater restraint, a great many of the show’s weakest moments would have ended up on the editing floor, while many of its greatest would have endured.