Thor: Ragnarok
(2017)
(SPOILERS) Thor: Ragnarok
is frequently very funny. It’s also very colourful. And quite wacky. But very
funny, very colourful and quite wacky are, clearly, the current Marvel formula
du jour, such that Kiwi director Taika Waititi isn’t so much unleashing a miraculous,
newfound irreverent spirit onto the studio’s assorted favourites as rearranging
its recently-upholstered furniture. What makes this case a little different is
that the rearranging is in the service of their least interesting title
character; Ragnarok comes across as
if a whole movie had been based on the scene in the first Thor where the god of thunder goes into a pet shop and asks for a
horse.
Am I doing down Waititi’s contribution? After all, he’ll
likely receive nothing but raves off the back of this. Well, to the extent that
he works a Joss Whedon effect on all the characters herein (good or bad,
incidental or main), over-feeding them gags such that they’d be
indistinguishable from each other if not for the personalities of the
performers (which is why Blanchett’s quips fall entirely flat while
Hemsworth’s, for all that he’s pushed too far the other way now as a purveyor
of non-stop comedy and non-Asgardian language, mostly travel), yes.
I should emphasise that Waititi doesn’t get a screenplay
credit; that’s for Eric Pearson (Agent
Carter), with story designated to Pearson, Craig Kyle (various animated
Marvel series), and Christopher Yost (ditto, along with a screenplay nod for Thor: The Dark World). In other words,
this has been precision-engineered in the Marvel workhouse, with the studio
then enabling its selected “auteur” to sprinkle a little of his own magic fairy
dust over it. Not too much, but just enough to ensure Thor doesn’t go down as
the lame duck of the Avengers characters boasting their own trilogy, charisma
and receipts-wise.
As such, the same is true of the direction. There’s enough that’s
distinctive here for it to be clear Waititi has brought his own stamp,
including a predilection for vibrant colours and designs taken from the page
rather than (say) following the Bryan Singer route of all-purpose leather wear
(that is, if all-purpose means everyone is wearing it in undifferentiated way).
This is his first big movie and his first outside of New Zealand, so if I say
you wouldn’t know, and that it looks as impressively staged as any other recent
Marvel movie, it’s as much a complement to his second unit director (Ben Cooke,
who also worked on the previous Thors
in a stunts capacity) and the effects department (the trash planet, spaceship
designs etc, are very redolent of the vibrant, upbeat look of Luc Besson SF –
if only Valerian and the City of a
Thousand Planets hadn’t tended to the flatulent).
This is a well-oiled machine, and the action, just like the
gags, drop off the conveyer belt like so many sausages. There are definitely
moments where you see Waititi’s more pared-down preferences coming through (Goldlbum’s
Grandmaster going to town on a space age Casio keyboard), but the big moments
have been digitally storyboarded well in advance. In that sense, the nearest
comparison is Peyton Reed and Ant-Man.
That comparison is significant, because Ragnarok also
suffers on the pacing front. Not in concept, which is actually quite canny and robust,
with its Asgard bookend and Thor thrown from the fray, needing to get back in
the nick of time to save his people (if not land), complete with a Chekov’s
Surtur (Clancy Brown voicing a nicely-designed fire demon) primed to be re-used
in the final act (meaning the classic mid-adventure Bond/Indy opening is only apparently superfluous). And, in terms
of individual scenes, these are often pitch-perfect, particularly when they
rely on comic interaction and pay-offs. But in terms of weight and direction,
there’s something lacking here. It was quite a while before I realised, post
Thor-Hulk clash, that we wouldn’t be returning to the arena (maybe that was
wishful thinking), and it quickly became apparent that every time we cut back
to Asgard we were being fed a subplot Waititi had zero interest in exploring.
Mostly because there are no gags to be yielded from it, and
when he unwisely attempts to enforce them on Hela (Blanchett, all Shakespear’s
Sister when she isn’t Maleficent refashioned as moose), they straight up bomb. This
section of the movie is entirely dreary, with Asgardians in peril, Karl Urban unable
to pull anything interesting from the hat of troubled not-really-so bad guy
Skurge (apart from an ill-advised mockney accent, but I wouldn’t call that
exactly interesting) and Idris Elba entirely failing to shine any charisma on
the one-note Heimdall (he’s been essentially redundant in all three Thors). Blanchett purveys strictly
uninspired villainy, but she’s been here before, her failures (Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal
Skull) proving more memorable than her successes (Cinderella).
Consequently, what should be ticking clock tension working
in the background fails to insert itself as strongly as it should. We aren’t
sufficiently invested in the stakes Thor’s fighting for, and there’s insufficient
urgency in his diversion on Sakaar. Ragnarok
flows more successful in the opening act, ironically, when it’s throwing in
left-field developments and cameos, than once it has established its
credentials. That doesn’t mean the action of the grand Asgardian climax doesn’t
carry well enough on its own terms, as predictable it is (although, Hulk
fighting a giant wolf isn’t exactly effective use of his abilities), and
doesn’t have the occasional surprise (Thor losing an eye wasn’t one I, er, saw
coming – the trailers disguised it, for a start – even if its thematically a
little too on the nose, aligning him as his father’s rightful heir).
With regard to Waititi’s sensibility, it’s a mixture of hit
and miss, albeit the miss is often a consequence of cumulative hits wearing
thin through repetition. His indulgently self-awarded role of friendly rock
monster Korg, like his vicar in Hunt for
the Wilderpeople, often doesn’t get the yuks he should, there to offer
deadpan drollery but only intermittently hitting the target. Thor is set up as
a butt of his own self-assured bravado, which pays-off handsomely the first or
even second time, but you need to know when to hold off (you can entirely see
the Jack Burton here, an influence on Waititi, but one film is not the other,
so taking it on board wholesale perhaps wasn’t the best move).
So too Hulk. Ironically, as he’s the big selling point here,
it becomes evident pretty quickly that the reason Whedon sold him so
deceptively easily was that he limited him to short, sharp bursts. Put him on
screen with Thor for too long and the rewards begin to wear a little thin. You
start to feel like you’re the one bouncing
his baseball repetitively against the wall. As such, bewildered Bruce – and thus
visible Mark Ruffalo – is a better semi-permanent fixture than his alter-ego,
particularly as a fish out of water who has lost several years.
Some of Ruffalo’s baffled interactions with Hemsworth are
beautifully delivered (“That doesn’t
sound right” in response to Thor informing Banner he beat Hulk easily in
combat), but it’s also true to say that the lie Thor tells both Hulk and Bruce
(that he prefers each of them to the other) reflects that there isn’t a strong
dynamic between these characters, certainly not one that can be sustained
beyond quips. It’s additionally unfortunate that we had to be reminded of Whedon’s
ill-advised decision to inflict a romantic undercurrent between Bruce and
Natasha, just when we were hoping Marvel might choose to forget it, like they
had their one-time wedding with Whedon (on the other hand, the light made of
Natalie Portman’s Jane’s absence from the proceedings is handled just right).
Also just right is Thor-Loki’s fraternal love-hate.
Hemsworth wanting to believe the best of his brother while knowing the worst is
inevitable, Hiddleston enjoying himself with the scheming and double-dealing.
While Waititi’s reaction to Thor’s prowess is to mock him, his presentation of
Loki is consistent with what we have seen before, if maybe a little broader;
it’s a joy to see how palpably unnerved he is at the sight of Hulk in the
arena, and his unbridled glee at Thor receiving the same treatment from his big
green mitts he did in The Avengers.
And then there’s their “Get help”
routine, illustrating as effectively as anything one might muster how close
they’ve been in the past and how easily they slip right back into it.
The remaining supporting cast are variably effective. Tessa
Thompson ought to have been a no-brainer – she was great recently in both Westworld and War on Everyone – but is strangely wrong-footed as Valkyrie (are
all the Valkyries called Valkyrie? I’m surprise Waititi didn’t riff on that),
unable to convince as a hard-drinker, and striking little chemistry with her
co-stars (in spite of the insistent voicing of unknowing familiarity between
her and Bruce).
If this is to be his last appearance in the Marvel-verse, Anthony
Hopkins at least gets to have some fun. Not so much in Odin’s ghostly advice to
his son once he has shuffled off to Fólkvangr, but rather when he’s playing
Loki playing Odin (his “Oh shi…” on
seeing Thor returned, while kicking back watching a play in which he’s
performed by Sam Neill – with Luke Hemsworth as Thor EDIT: one of my co-attendees said Matt Damon was in this scene, and I thought he was referring to the Thor actor, rather than Loki. I need better eagle eyes! – is worth all his
going-through-the-motions previous essayings of the role combined). It’s also
fun seeing Stephen Strange run rings around the Asgard brothers (“I’ve been falling… for thirty minutes!”),
although Cumberbatch’s accent remains nothing short of a train wreck. And then
there’s “creepy old man” Stan Lee
playing a crazy hairdresser (one thing Marvel have consistently hit their marks
on lately have been his cameos).
The laurels go to Goldblum, though. I wouldn’t say the
Grandmaster is a particularly iconic role on the page, and it certainly doesn’t
have that much screen time, but Goldblum’s presence in a movie is as inimitable
as Christopher Walken’s – they both have unmistakable, idiosyncratic cadences
to match their personalities you just can’t replicate with anyone else – and Waititi
wisely gives him a long leash. He was evidently enough of a hit with all
concerned that he was awarded the final post-credits scene (“And, uh, it’s a tie”).
As with Hunt for the
Wilderpeople, Waititi combines generally funny gags with a level of crudity
that makes you think he just gets lucky. Devil’s Anus is exactly the kind of
juvenile gobbery he would come up
with (even if he didn’t), as is Thor’s hammer “pulling him off” (should wank
gags be in Marvel movies? if Waititi’s involved, there’ll no doubt be paedo
ones next). It’s that same inability not to go too far you find with Matthew
Vaughn, but you’d have though Kevin Feige would know better on when to pull
back (rather than off).
If that’s too much, at other key moments he’s unable to ramp
up. As in, the populace. Asgard appears to be populated by about fifty people,
which is very fortunate when it comes to a mass evacuation (now, in what I
assume is a nod to topicality, they are refugees heading for Earth – I wonder
if they’ll be welcome?)
Mark Mothersbaugh delivers his first Marvel score, and either
he or Waititi have evidently been watching Stranger
Things, as pulsing ‘80s synths are the order of the day during driving
moments. For the grand battles, though, Led Zeppelin is called upon – not
exactly original since Fincher’s The Girl
with the Dragon Tattoo first “rediscovered” Immigrant Song for the movies in 2011 (I should probably cite School of Rock, but it doesn’t really
count in the same way), a bit like James Gunn re-employing Hooked on a Feeling – and it’s a suitably stirring accompaniment, in
yet another nod to Guardians of the
Galaxy’s influence as Marvel’s current pace setter.
So Thor: Ragnarok
is very funny, but it’s not as funny overall as, say Iron Man Three or this year’s Spider-Man:
Homecoming, and it’s very colourful, but in a manner that seems derivative
of, rather than as defining as Guardians
of the Galaxy. And it’s wacky, but in a jokey sense rather than inventively
(again, as per Gunn’s Marvel work). In terms of character, sure, it advances
Thor strategically, but not in a way that feels substantial or defining, so it
rather underlines that the character just
isn’t that interesting (in a similar manner to Waititi turning him into
Jack Burton, it suggests he was never that impressive in the first place). It’s
a good movie, to be sure, it’s a funny movie, and it’s a superior movie, by quite
a margin, to the previous Thors, but
it isn’t a peak Marvel moment. Perhaps if it had arrived four years ago, before
Gunn it would have felt like the next big thing. Right now, it’s par-for-the-course
Marvel.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.