Thor: Love and Thunder is a funny, fractured fairytale.
It may not shed any light on where the MCU is going, but it does honor a myth-making tradition.
The Short Take:
A fun, goofy adventure that has a lot of heart and, occasionally, some surprisingly weighty moments. Not in the same stratosphere as Taika Waititi’s Thor: Ragnarok, but still worthy, especially if you appreciate the director’s oddball brand of humor.
Image Credit: Entertainment Weekly
[The beginning of this Long Take will be spoiler-free so I can help those on the fence about making a trip to the theater or waiting 45 days for this film to show up on Disney+. I will make a very loud announcement about going into spoiler mode when the time comes.]
The Long Take:
Director Taika Waititi caught blue lighting in a bottle when he made Thor: Ragnarok. It was the perfect storm of MCU character team-ups, big name actors who understood the assignment, an intelligent appropriation of Norse mythology, a phenomenal techno-rock soundtrack, and, most of all, dashes of endearingly awkward humor.
Thor: Love and Thunder tries to recreate the same magic and then some, with Waititi completely unleashed. It’s almost as if Marvel gave him a blank check and said go play; no one seems to be reining him in here at all. I’m reminded of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness; genre-wise, the two films are very different, but they both reflect the distinct styles and tastes of their respective auteurs. In Waitii’s case, Thor: Ragnarok still felt like a typical MCU movie with some Taika flavoring. This film feels more like a Taika Waititi project that happens to have MCU characters in it.
So if you are wondering whether or not you care to seek out this movie in the coming weeks, ask yourself if you would enjoy a lighter, more extra Ragnarok or if you just generally enjoy Waititi’s work.
Granted, I haven’t seen everything Taika Waititi has made, but to me he’s most comfortable in a tonal duality between completely cavalier or jokey and brutally grim or tragic. Dark comedy that he can dial up and down depending on the context. His Oscar-winning Jo Jo Rabbit is an example of how the duality can go too far. I remember sometimes laughing and then feeling gross about it. It’s just really hard to make Nazis funny. In What We Do in the Shadows, on the other hand, the intermingling of dark and comedic is perfect. Vampires are talking about and in some cases actually murdering people in front of us, and it’s hilarious.
In Love and Thunder, I was a little overwhelmed with the barrage of awkward yet sweetly juvenile humor for the first 40 or so minutes. I had to attune my brain to the more hyperactive pace. But I also had a grin on my face pretty much the entire time. The thrill and joy of Thor doing Thor stuff never wore off. There’s plenty of jumping up in the air, lighting striking everywhere, and bringing down the hammer (or axe, as the case may be). There’s a running bit with some animal companions Thor picks up along the way. It’s so silly. And I thought it was going to get old, but it never did. I laughed every time.
I can see how some might find the mix of goofy and macabre off-putting. I think I’ve seen a few Tweets that praise Christian Bale’s Gorr the God Butcher, but then say he didn’t belong in the same movie as all the other characters who were constantly joking. This is kind of just what Taika Waititi does, though. It doesn’t have to be for everyone, but I think contextualizing the film in that deliberate choice may help some make more sense of their reactions to the film. Waititi likes to live just on the edge of making the audience uncomfortable.
Christian Bale, by the way, unsurprisingly takes what could have been a ho hum villain and makes Gore the God Butcher magnetic and tragic. In some ways he was the most memorable and impressive part of the film. Waititi was wise to take the time to establish what he has been through. Bale’s intensely committed performance made my complaints about ill-defined antagonists in Ms. Marvel last week burn just a little bit more. Imagine how Najma getting the same treatment would have elevated the series.
Image Credit: Slash Film
While I think Christian Bale is worth the price of admission here, one of the potentially polarizing, deal-breaking elements for MCU fans may be the frequent use of a somewhat disjointed frame narrative, told by Korg. To me, the dorky Kronan warrior, who stole many a scene in Ragnarok, is the most emblematic of the Taika Waititi brand. Not only does Waititi himself voice the character, but Korg frequently injects a sense of hapless innocence into his scenes. There’s a lot of Korg in this movie, and while he doesn’t have the most substantive storyline, I still enjoyed seeing him.
In general, Thor: Love and Thunder isn’t as substantive as Thor: Ragnarok, but I’m not sure it’s entirely fair to compare the two directly. The stakes of Ragnarok were so high, but we were at the height of the Infinity Saga, setting up for Avengers: Infinity War, which would come out the following year. And the entirety of Thor’s home world, Asgard, is in peril in Ragnarok. The film’s title literally refers to the end of the world in Norse mythology. Here, in the middle of Phase 4, Love and Thunder has to pick up the pieces (in some cases literal pieces) and find some footing post-Avengers: Endgame.
We also can’t forget the interference of COVID on the MCU’s production schedule, which Disney/Marvel had to completely overhaul. Most notably, they had planned for Love and Thunder to come out right after Spider-Man: No Way Home. Co-producer Sony, however, didn’t want to delay the release of that film, forcing a shuffling of the order. I’m imagining Love and Thunder as a fun chaser to the huge franchise event that was No Way Home, and suddenly it makes a lot more sense in scale, scope, and tone. Now, however, with so many films and series behind us, there seem to be more of a burden of expectations. The Ringer-Verse podcast has been using the phrase “summer of no expectations” a lot lately, and I’m trying to stay in that mindset as well.
[SPOILER ALERT: If you haven’t seen the film yet, hold off on reading the rest of this review until you have. Also, if you’re wondering why I’m backtracking to something I mentioned earlier, it’s because I realized mid-writing that I couldn’t talk about it well without spoilers.]
I could argue that Korg’s frame narrative contributes to Love and Thunder having relatively lower stakes or being of lesser consequence than Ragnarok. In some ways, it could be Taika Waititi’s way of telling us as much. Korg uses some variation on the phrase “just another classic Thor adventure” multiple times. That could be an acknowledgment that this film is best viewed as a classic adventure, iterative and standalone.
When I mentioned it earlier, I didn’t necessarily use “disjointed” pejoratively; I simply meant that we hear Korg telling a captive audience about Thor’s adventures, but the storytelling stops and starts and starts over in a way that makes it seem like he’s telling multiple tales on multiple occasions. His narration doesn’t help bookend the entire film or give it structural stability; it’s ad hoc, coming and going as needed. This is probably just as well because while I like Korg a lot, his primary purpose is comic relief, and as such he isn’t a character I’m emotionally invested in. And I don’t think we’re supposed to be because even when Zeus strikes him down, the film very quickly says “just kidding” and keeps him alive as a talking head. Thor was sad, but I wasn’t all that sad.
In general, though, I like the campfire storytelling as a stylistic choice because it nods at Thor’s origins as a mythological figure. Norse myths weren’t written until an anonymous author compiled them into a series of poems called The Poetic Edda and scholar Snorri Sturluson wrote The Prose Edda in the 13th century. Perhaps for centuries before then, they were sung or spoken around campfires not unlike Korg’s.
Oral storytelling, how myth-making happens on the ground and in real time, is very clearly a recurring theme throughout the film, and not just through Korg’s expository frame narrative. Heimdall’s son, Axel, tells the other children legends from Thor’s past to keep them calm in the Shadow Realm. Even Gorr himself takes a crack at trying to tell the kids he himself imprisoned a story. And later on, during his confrontation with Thor, Mighty Thor, and Valkyrie, Gorr tells their own stories back to them as a form of psychological warfare. And, of course, I can’t forget the delightfully meta Asgardian play, with Matt Damon returning as an actor playing Loki, this time in a show for tourists visiting New Agard. That’s not strictly oral, but it’s an example of people repeating myths and legends to themselves.
What value does the echo of oral storytelling offer, though? I can think of two possibilities. From a cheesier storytelling perspective, the recurring story time serves as a reminder of why we love stories. They help us work through our own problems. They give us hope. They bring us comfort and escape during dark times.
If I’m thinking more specifically about the particular story Love and Thunder tells, there’s actually a more interesting tension surrounding the relationship between humans and gods. Gorr’s messaging is very clear: the god he worshipped failed him and revealed himself to be narcissistic and uncaring — unworthy of reverence. Mythology, depending on the pantheon and culture, often depicts gods as petty and cruel. But the stories told by the characters in Love and Thunder, at least about Thor, herald him as, unsurprisingly, a hero. They glorify him, with adoration. Does this mean that myth-making and storytelling inevitably add an undeserving gloss? I’ve definitely seen more than one review use the word “fairytale” to describe this film. Or maybe this is the MCU’s way of setting up the idea that there are good gods and bad gods, some worthy — like Thor — and unworthy — like Zeus. Russell Crowe was a laugh riot as Zeus. His attempt at a Greek accent was absurd, but I really liked the way he hammed it up without a care in the world.
At face value, Love and Thunder is a self-contained film that makes no explicit attempt to plug back into the larger MCU. Many critics have expressed surprise and/or frustration that the road map — in terms of a big bad or a major event/crossover mission they’re working towards — has not emerged, and I think at this point this is a valid concern. In my reviews over the past year, I’m sure I’ve made countless speculations about what possible clues might hint at what possible overarching storylines. But I’m not confident in any of them. Is it the multiverse? Kang? Celestials?
After seeing this film and its two end credit scenes, I can kind of root around the disorganized backpack that is Phase 4 to inelegantly feel my way to the idea that interrogating the global pantheon could be a unifying story. The reveal that Zeus survived Thor’s blow to the chest and has asked Hercules to help him exact revenge certainly implies that the next Thor movie, whenever we get it (none has been announced), will begin with Hercules coming after Thor. In the moment, I was so elated about Brett Goldstein — as what I hope will be a surly, foul-mouthed Hercules — that I didn’t even think if this related to anything. But then when I got home, I thought, oh wait, maybe we’re building towards a war of the gods. Other entries into Phase 4 — Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, Eternals, Moon Knight, and Ms. Marvel — have been globetrotting to different pantheons and other culture-specific lore. Might another cosmic crisis involving Omnipotence City be in our future? If Thor can’t rely on the other gods, perhaps he must recruit all the supernaturally-charged heroes on Earth to help him fight Zeus?
P.S. I’m sorry I haven’t naturally gotten around to gushing over Natalie Portman as Mighty Thor. I thought she was great, and I probably would have been fine with an entire movie just about her struggle with cancer and her transformation into Mighty Thor. But I did want to add that her Valhalla end-credits scene with Heimdall, combined with what we know about afterlife planes of existence from Moon Knight, does open the door for anyone in Valhalla to in some way travel to Earth, perhaps to aid Thor in his fight against Zeus. Or, that stinger could amount to nothing.
Image Credit: Indiewire
Like Thor, the MCU just needs some time to work on itself. Coming down from Endgame and finding the way forward in the face of an industry forever-changed by the pandemic, and figuring out how the explosion of Disney+ series fit into the bigger picture — that’s a lot to process. Phase 4 and beyond may not look like what we’re used to, but, by the end of Love and Thunder, we see that Thor’s life looks nearly unrecognizable. He’s a dad making pancakes and then romping off on adventures with his adopted daughter.
Not to brag, but I knew this is how the the story would end the SECOND Korg said that he thought Thor would make a good dad. I knew they wouldn’t plant that idea there if they weren’t going to cash in on it later. Plus, there were just SO many children in this movie (which was great! they were great!). I know this doesn’t help with figuring out how Phase 4 all comes together, but I would love to see a Love and Thunder Disney+ series with Chris Hemsworth as Thor and his real-life daughter, India, as Love. No epic or complicated plot needed. Just adventures of the week, please and thank you. I’m starting to accept that my expectations of how the MCU functions may need to change.