Watching Thor: Ragnarok reminded me: why do we have to take ourselves so seriously?
The genius of this comic-book movie is that everything is played as something of a joke, or at least with a degree of humor.
The most obviously hilarious elements spring from Jeff Goldblum’s perfect “Grandmaster,” and Chris Hemsworth’s Thor is a font of semi-self-aware observations and childish arguments with the Hulk, the neurotic Bruce Banner, and the preening, self-congratulatory Loki. Even the drunken Valkyrie, the rabid fire monster, and the over-the-top villain Hela are absurd in themselves, acknowledging with their smirking expressions that they are—as in a comic book—overdrawn.
This is exactly what a comic-centered movie should be: an entertainment that understands its value lies in larger-than-life characters with awesome strengths and quirky foibles. I give director Taika Waititi credit. He shows us god-like figures (or in Thor’s case, an actual god) who can do it all, and make it look (fairly) easy, while laughing about their absurd predicaments on some level.
The experience as a viewer is a far cry from the “dark,” overly violent, crazy serious comic-book character films we’ve seen in recent years: Spider-Man 3, The Dark Knight, Man of Steel, Batman v. Superman, etc.
If only we could all live with a small smile hovering around the corners of our mouth, like the big-screen Thor. Everywhere I look these days, people are serious. In fact, they demand to be taken seriously, whether they are in favor of something, against something, or just speaking for the most important something: themselves.
Gone are the days of blindly following in one’s father’s or mother’s footsteps, thankfully, but the by-product of our perceived freedom is that the whole of life is now one big game of showmanship.
We believe that we have to appear perfect and convince others of that fact; we must make our case so all can see our value. (It reminds me of the Razzle Dazzle ‘Em scene from the musical/movie Chicago, but without the fun.)
Many people feel that they must defend their own self-importance constantly and attack all who challenge it. Trump daily demonstrates this kind of insecure posturing, sucking the life out of any real public discussion, turning it all into black-and-white, us-vs.-them, I’m-right-you’re-an-idiot.
Heaven forbid we should take a step back and poke fun at ourselves, or make jokes about our own ridiculousness. No wonder people in other countries often see Americans as self-promoting and arrogant.
But how to break out of this humorless zone? Especially given the immense problems our country and our world face, in addition to the challenges of everyday life?
Many days, I just can’t seem to find much to laugh about, even as I pour through my TV, movie, and streaming listings. Great dramas? Yes. Reality TV? Indeed. Science fiction? Check. But humor, for me, is limited to one or two late-night shows, a smattering of stand-up acts, occasional gem-in-the rough, out-of-the-way small screen series, and re-runs of classics that still don’t disappoint like Seinfeld.
I only wish I, too, could be more humorous to add to this limited corpus. I can make my family laugh from time to time, but that’s about it these days. If only the gods had gifted me with great humor! I can appreciate it; I can enjoy it; and I can even cultivate it in my own children, both of whom have done drama performances that made people laugh out loud.
Perhaps the next generation, saddled with ever-increasing problems, will take the comic reins even more forcefully, letting the genie out of the bottle… and easing our self-importance just a bit.
MeredithInk 