(Contains minor spoilers)
I wanted to love Thor. I wanted to get sucked into its inter-cosmic opera, its otherworldly magic. I wanted to embark on a journey of transformation, of a god becoming a man. I wanted to get swept up in its electrifying action and superhuman prowess. And yet, I walked out a bit disappointed – not because the final product was flawed, but because it had flirted with and teased at great storytelling for two hours and ultimately fell short.
Directed by Kenneth Branagh, whose portfolio primarily consists of Shakespearean adaptations, Thor yearns to bring the Bard’s dramatic flares to the world of Marvel Comics. As the film unfolds, we are introduced to the elegant world of Asgard where an aging King Odin (Anthony Hopkins) is ready to bequeath the throne to one of his sons, either Thor (Chris Hemsworth) or Loki (Tom Hiddleston). But when the arrogant Thor betrays an ageless truce, he threatens the safety of the entire kingdom. To teach his boy a lesson in humility, Odin strips Thor of his immortality and banishes him to Earth. With Thor cast out, Loki finally hatches his plot to take over the Asgardian throne all for himself.
There seems to be a completely separate movie brewing underneath the final product here, biding its time to burst through the veneer of grown men dressed in spandex with an unbridled examination of heroes and anti-heroes. All the while I was watching the film, I couldn’t help but think of Robert Browning’s quote, “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp or what’s a heaven for?”
Indeed, Thor reaches – and reaches mightily – for a deeper storytelling dynamic than its Marvel peers. It seeks to explore the ubiquitous father-son dynamic through the colorful lens of superheroes – nay, Gods – as Hopkins, Hemsworth, and Hiddleston all deliver powerful performances. Fueled with jealousy, betrayal, and sorrow, the familial drama in Asgard is as gripping as it is refreshing. In fact, sequences in Asgard stand out as the highlights of this film, arguably the entire raisan d’etre for Thor’s standalone adventure before inevitably joining The Avengers next year.
Understandably, once the film shifts to more Earthly planes, the story begins lurching, shifting erratically between the two worlds. It is here in the second act that I suspect Marvel Studios stepped in and decided to alter the story, jettisoning emotional beats and intimate character studies for action and pace.
Exhibit A: Thor’s emotional journey on Earth, a quest meant to teach him humility, growth, and maturity beyond the grasp of immortals, is skipped through so quickly I'm not sure what or why or how Thor changed. Supposedly, he falls for astrophysicist Jane (Natalie Portman) who catalyzes something in him. What though? I'm not sure. And what does she see in him? Beefcake arm-candy and proof that her childhood fairy tales came true? And just as ambiguously, Thor later casually vows to protect a race that had hitherto tasered, drugged, interrogated, and stripped him of Mjolnir, his beloved hammer. When his immortality is finally restored, why should Thor care about anyone in this dingy New Mexico town?
Exhibit B: At one point in his journey, Thor finds himself hell-bent on retrieving Mjolnir. Rashly, he storms into the SHIELD facilities surrounding his prized weapon. “I’ll fly out,” he smirks, clearly overestimating his own abilities. So as Thor rampages through, who does SHIELD tap to stop him? Hawkeye – but you’d only know this if you’re fully up to snuff on your Marvel trivia. Interestingly, he doesn’t stop Thor. In fact, he doesn’t do anything. The sad truth to this entire sequence is that it should’ve highlighted Thor’s arrogance and impatience, flaws that he had not yet overcome. His subsequent defeat as he physically fails to raise his rightful weapon should’ve married beautifully with his emotional immaturity, driving home the point that this man is not yet ready to be a hero. Instead, we get some nameless doofus in a scaffold with a bow-and-arrow who does nothing. Essentially, Hawkeye’s presence in this sequence only served to undermine Thor’s emotional journey; it was as superfluous as it was cheap, just another tacky marketing ploy by Marvel to hint at the eventual assembly of The Avengers (an aspect of the Marvel films that I have loathed ever since Marvel Studios spun off as its own studio).
It’s fitting that a director such as Branagh took on this project. His sense of Olde English and knack for timeless storytelling arcs make the world of Asgard sing with a richness no other Marvel film has ever accomplished. And I don't doubt that Branagh had the best intentions when he signed on to direct Thor. I also don't doubt that at its core, Thor meant to marry two worlds: high drama and pop culture. But unfortunately, I know that somewhere between the film's five screenwriters (yes, five) and nosy studio execs, meaty portions of Thor’s journey were trimmed, modified and ultimately, sacrificed to appeal to a greater population (This is reminiscent of The Incredible Hulk, in which Edward Norton was infamously vocal about Marvel Studio’s interference with the story, and to a lesser degree Iron Man 2, in which Jon Favreau combated heavy pressure from the studio to alter the story).
There is much to admire and enjoy – even love – in this film. It incorporates aspects of storytelling – betrayal, turmoil, humor, romance – that would make Shakespeare proud. In particular, Tom Hiddleston’s turn as the jealous but understandably vengeful Loki kicks the film into another gear whenever he's on-screen. But perhaps above all else, Thor has ambition. This movie dared to expand its storytelling depth to realms no other superhero adaptation has ever explored. It sought to redefine the obligatory – and oftentimes, boring – origin story into a sweeping intergalactic drama, replete with intrigue, awe, and mystery. This is one of those movies whose reach unfortunately exceeds its ultimate grasp. But damn it all, I love that Thor even reaches at all.
