Drama 101.

I went to see Thor last weekend, and whenever this came up in conversation during the course of the week, people would ask the standard question: "How was it?" I'd answer in greater or lesser detail, depending on my evaluation of the questioner's knowledge of and interest in comic book characters, but all of my answers started with the same basic evaluation:  "Oh, it was pretty good."

And it is pretty good, as to as comic book movies go, even without the added appeal of 3D.  It has a good lineup of acting talent, with Anthony Hopkins taking the role of Odin Allfather, and relative unknown Chris Hemsworth does an impressive job with the part of Thor. Thor is very definitely a larger than life character, and Hemsworth plays it as such, but with absolutely no self-consciousness or winking at the camera.  Tom Hiddleston is a bit of a scene stealer as Loki, but it's not a bad thing to have a strong actor in the role of the villain. 

It also contains the usual callouts for long-term fans, such as references to Don Blake, who was the original secret identity of Thor in the early days of the comic, a brief appearance by Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, bow and all, and a variety of iconic Marvel Comics items such as the Infinity Gauntlet and the Eye of Agamotto* that have somehow found their way to the treasure room of Odin.

And, icing on the cake, it's directed by Kenneth Branagh, presumably added to the project in order to provide a sort of Shakespearian gravitas to the whole package.

 

Anyway, a pleasant experience, bit of fun for a Saturday afternoon, but not a great movie, not an astonishing movie.  But why not?  As I've already said, everyone does a good job**, it's in 3D, Good triumphs, Evil fails, why does Thor miss the mark for greatness?  After some thought, I decided that there's a very basic problem that all of these comic book movies share, along with their source material:  lack of dramatic tension.

But what exactly are we talking about here?  Dramatic tension?  What does that mean, anyway?  It's a very simple answer - dramatic tension is what you get if the audience doesn't know what's going to happen. 

Most comic book movies - in fact, far too many science fiction and fantasy movies as well - suffer from a disheartening degree of predictability.   Once the stage is set, there seems to be a limited number of boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-powers, boy-kills-villain, boy-blows-up-Death-Star, boy-dies-then-comes-back-to-life gambits that writers are willing to use.

As a good example, I cried a little when I heard rumours of a sequel to Inception.  I don't know if, oh, The Dark Knight is a better or worse movie than Inception, but I guarantee that no one walked away from The Dark Knight trying to figure out what the ending really meant.  People argue about the ending of Inception - can you imagine anyone sitting down to argue about the ending of Iron Man 2?

It also doesn't help that Thor, along with the upcoming Captain America, the Iron Man movies, and the Hulk reboot, are all in some small way teasers for the upcoming Avengers movie being released in 2012.  How innovative can your plot be if the character in your film has to end up as part of a supergroup next year?

But there's hope:  the Avengers film is being written and directed by Joss Whedon, one of the least predictable and most creative talents in the realm of pop culture.  Let's hope that the man who kept audiences guessing for seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, five seasons of Angel (and one short mis-managed season of Firefly) can find a way to pull a rabbit out of his hat for The Avengers.

Actually, given that it's Joss Whedon, a rabbit is the last thing I'll expect to see.

- Sid

* I leave it to the individual reader to either a) trust me that these are iconic items or b) look them up. Same with Hawkeye.

**  Okay, almost everyone.  What, was Rene Russo the only person who showed up for the audition for the role of Odin's wife, Frigga Allmother?  Because that's pretty much the only reason I can come up with to explain how she got the part.

Hoopy froods - or not.

Hey you, sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is!

Douglas Adams, The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Whenever I feel self-conscious about something, that's what I look at in other people.  When I get a new haircut, I look at their hair, if I'm worried that I forgot to polish my shoes, I look at their feet, and so on.  Yesterday, I was looking for towels.

As per previous blog postings, I've had a hit and miss relationship with Towel Day, which commemorates Douglas Adams, author of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy series.  However, this year I marked it on the calendar well in advance, and on Wednesday morning, I chose a mid-sized white towel from the linen closet, looped it through the handles of my shoulder bag, and headed off for the bus.

As per my already established self-consciousness, I spent the day looking for towels, and to my disappointment, I didn't spot one other terry-cloth indicator of hoopy froodhood - or of terminal geekness, depending on where you stand on this.  Regardless, it left me feeling a bit sad and alone.  Perhaps next year I'll just throw in the towel, then...

- Sid

Raptured.

But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.

Jesus Christ, Matthew 24:36

(Although this is a marginal entry in terms of blog suitability, I consider the end of the world to be one of the standard science fiction topics, and as such I'm willing to extend my mandate a bit for the purposes of discussion.)

As probably everyone knows, the Rapture was scheduled for this weekend, May 21st, and the popular media has been full of commentary regarding the failure of Harold Camping's predication regarding the start of the End Days, with the end of the world coming five months later on October 21st.

In the wake of his apparent mistake, Camping has gone back to the drawing board and announced that the day of Judgement will coincide with the end of the world in October as per the original schedule.

But what if he was right in the first place?  There's another interpretation here, and it's possible that we've all been guilty of overlooking the obvious.  As I understand the concept, the Rapture is the moment when God takes the righteous to Heaven still in their own bodies - ergo the common* bumper sticker, "IN CASE OF RAPTURE, THIS CAR WILL BE UNMANNED."

The righteous...the righteous...okay, let's define our terms.  What if the strictures applied by the Lord are so stern that no one, not one person on the planet, can be considered to be righteous?  What if the reason that no one is missing is because no one qualified - because even the slightest deviation from the code of conduct laid down in the Bible gets you crossed off the list?

By extension, it's possible that no one has ever met the standard.  Imagine the forlorn streets of the Heavenly City, unmarked by the passage of even a single soul.  And, worse, imagine a Hell which contains the tortured souls of every human being ever born, a Hell in which, ironically, eternal torment has to take place in shifts as overworked hordes of demons attempt to keep up with the demand.

Actually, come to think of it, this isn't a bad idea for a fantasy story - maybe this was a suitable blog topic after all.

- Sid

* Common in the more fundamentalist regions of the United States, anyway, I doubt that you would see a lot of them in British Columbia.