Thor
Radioactive spiders, mechanised suits of armour, gamma radiated cells, genetic mutations and exposure to various ‘toxic’ chemicals; that which, in the real world, would undoubtedly kill you, in the comic book movies will only make you harder, better, faster, stronger. Until now, Marvel’s movies have existed in the perennial world of the ‘not too distant future’, where science fiction becomes science fact and a trusting audience accepts minimal explanation in favour of maximum action. That was until the coming of the comic book thunder, where the world of might, magic and myth (busting) comes courtesy of Shakespearean aficionado Kenneth Branagh.
The director’s familiarity with the Bard becomes a saving grace in his handling of the Asgard (home of the Norse Gods) mythos. Overseen by All-father Odin (a lukewarm Anthony Hopkins) this is a city of ludicrously majestic halls so shiny you wonder if Thor (Chris Hemsworth, who will never match, say, Robert Downey Jr. for charisma) and his mischievous brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston) have to clean them with a toothbrush when they have been naughty. Trouble, as it happens, isn’t something the audience is left waiting for. After a quick opening scene on Earth, the action moves Norse where a war mongering Thor, accompanied by his Asgardian cohorts, causes a royal ruckus by laying the smackdown on a score of gravel voiced frost giants.
The opening action is intense, yet carries a theatrical frivolity to it, marking it as a mythical fable of adventure, and no doubt helped capture that 12A rating. There exists a fine line between fantasy and fallacy when dealing with a world of magical hammers and rainbow bridges, but the cast of Asgardians carry just the right amount of gravitas when playing it straight. Branagh handles his ensemble of – newly multicultural – Norse Gods with all the aplomb of a master of theatre. Each performer, from Jaimie Alexander’s Lady Sif to Idris Elba’s bridge keeper Heimdall, are given generous screen time to chew.
It’s almost a shame when our hero is banished to this mortal coil and has to conduct in a spot of buffoonery. Discovered by Natalie Portman’s Jane Foster (here retooled from the comic’s nurse to a somewhat unbelievable astrophysicist), the now mortal Thor awakes in a small town hospital and many a big-God-in-a-small town hijinks ensue. These escapades skirt between smirk and cringe-inducing, but the spirit of the venture allows this humour to be taken as it should, in cheek. The pace is brisk, as is Thor’s quest for redemption: lasting for but a few days it makes our hero’s journey more of a quick jaunt.
There is a slight jarring effect as the scenes cut between a redemptive Thor in the small nowheresville slice of dustbowl America and Loki, his irked brother, sat plotting in the gloriously rendered Asgard that leaves a pining for the action to return to the stars. The two worlds just don’t blend together and as Thor’s comrades in arms travel to Earth to help him battle Loki’s unleashed Destroyer, they look, well, silly. As one S.H.I.E.L.D agent asks, “Is a renaissance fair in town?”, you do wonder if these costumes would really be out of place at a comic-con convention.
But, taken with a little pinch of salt, just a little Avenger nodding, a brief Hawkeye cameo and the ability to forego asking too many questions, Thor is, dare you say, a marvellous adventure, fit for a sequel and deserving his place in Marvel’s soon to be mega team-up.