I am almost at the end of my Marvel movies rewatch after having spent my early morning in bed viewing Avengers: Endgame (and feeling all the feelings appropriately). I’m sure everyone’s seen this movie by now but *spoiler warning*.
I love the movie for a lot of reasons starting with “that’s America’s ass” and ending with the fact that Peter Parker is the most important person in the universe. Setting aside that potential PowerPoint for now . . .
It’s Thor’s grief that gets me in the film. And it’s gotten some valid critique. When we meet Thor five years after he killed Thanos, he is fat, drunk, and spending all of his time locked in a dark house playing video games. The critique in a nutshell: the script takes some cheap shots that turn him into a bit of a joke.
But god, it’s so real. We see other heroes react to their grief and depression by throwing themselves into work or bottling their emotions or disconnecting from their friends, all of which feel human and true. But when I think about how I’ve reacted to depression and loss, I see myself in Thor. The drinking, the weight gain, the escapism. And it didn’t feel like a fucking joke. It felt really painful. It felt like the best I could do at the time. And to Chris Hemsworth’s credit, I don’t think he plays it as a joke. Even with the few jabs in the script.
The turning point is when he’s back in time on Asgard and before leaving sticks out his hand. Mjölnir returns to him and he says “I’m still worthy.” Because he is. Because he did what he needed to survive and is moving through it. Because being fat does not equal unworthiness.
Then, he goes and kicks ass, extra pounds and all.
With Love,
Natalie