At the time of me writing this, there are 28 cinematic movies in the Marvel universe, and that number is only set to grow. When your franchise is such a crowded market, each movie must fight to break new ground and differentiate itself. And that brings us to the first struggle of Taika Watiti’s new Thor film, Love and Thunder. Does this movie need to exist? No. But is it entertaining in its own right? Read on.
Comic book superheroes are inherently camp. Marvel is best when it embraces the ridiculousness while taking itself seriously. Chloe Zhao, helming last November’s Eternals, took this too far in the other direction, giving us a film that seemed embarrassed to be a Marvel movie: a muted greige palette, an attempt at a sensual superhero sex scene, and buckets of emotional turmoil. Zhao talented and fresh off an Oscar win still managed to make superheroes feel unbearably boring and virtuous.
Watiti, by contrast, has no problem embracing Marvel’s goofier side but fails to inject it with any of the nuance or complexity of his original work. Unfunny gags, jarring visuals and indulgence abound.
Chris Hemsworth’s Thor, while generally a charming and wholesome addition to the movies, never had the depth or charisma of his counterpart, Tom Hiddleston’s Loki, and this starring role comes off as a bit of a participation trophy.
Natalie Portman, as Thor’s recurring love interest, earnest plucky doctor-turned-cancer patient/superhero Jane Foster, phones it in. Portman is an actress whose skill lies in bringing needle-sharp prescience to troubled and challenging characters, not the broad and lovable emotion needed to carry a work like this. Watiti’s proposed intentions to make Love and Thunder a romance and eighties homage both fall flat, as the love story feels forced and the 80s references are a diet version of Guardians of the Galaxy’s. It doesn’t help that Hemsworth and Portman lack any chemistry whatsoever.
Meanwhile, Christian Bale takes up the villain mantle in this one, playing Gorr the God Butcher, a vengeful, grief-struck man turned gains deadly powers thanks to a necro-sword. Gorr could’ve been interesting, in another universe, but past the opening scene no time is allocated to giving him nuance, and he basically spends the film sat in a cage, twirling his moustache and monologuing to a group of kidnapped children. It’s a largely thankless role, and Bale, in turn, gives it little originality.
Maybe I'm making it sound worse than it is. As a random summer evening-filler, it’s eminently watchable. It has a coherent plot, some mildly amusing gags, and the excellent Tessa Thompson as Valkyrie. But the level of self-satisfaction begins to grate between the chummy, quirky tone, mixed with the sentimentality double-dose (it’s both a cancer story and a parental-love story).
Moreover, this already crowded franchise - dotted with genuinely excellent work - does not need another inconsequential, superficial entry - especially as the joyful Ms Marvel on Apple TV just gave us all the laughs and heart this was missing.
It also feels suspiciously slapdash, as though the team lost interest halfway through. You get the feeling Watiti was mentally already off somewhere directing the next season of Our Flag Means Death. Like the smart kid who does his homework the night before it's due, this is less forgivable because you know the director is capable of more. We’ve seen far better from him, and recently at that, and no doubt will again soon. It’s just a shame he couldn’t bring the thunder.