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Glorious purpose indeed.
Well, it’s happened again. A work of fiction had a strong start and then devolved into lousy material.
First off, obviously, spoilers for the Loki 2021 series as well as the general MCU films and shows up to now. You’ve been warned.
To give you some background, I actually wasn’t a Loki fan until far later in the game. I paid him no mind in the first Thor, enjoyed him in Avengers, and then slowly over the time between Thor: The Dark World and Ragnarok, Loki slithered his way into my heart. It’s not as if I think he’s the best character in the MCU or anything, but I adore him. He’s a shitlord. He’s so extra. He’s the embodiment of chaos. He managed to charm me and make me care about him, even becoming a sort of anchor character for me in my fanfiction writing sessions. Naturally, I was quite excited when they announced he’d been given a spinoff series after the events of Avengers: Endgame. I wanted to see Tom Hiddleston continue to shine in the role, even if it was just going to be for a brief extra story for us to enjoy.
And that’s how it started off.
Episodes 1 & 2 of Loki (2021) contain the content that I’d hoped for. We got to see Loki at the end of his rope, but in a different sense than his fate in Infinity War. He was thrown into an organization he knew nothing about and without his powers. He had to figure out how to survive without any hope of outside help, which we know he’s done before. It gave us some nice introspective moments, showed us he was human, showed us vulnerable bits to his character. We also got to see plenty of his faults and shortcomings, all of which was fun and interesting.
And then Sylvie showed up.
And as soon as she did, my enjoyment of the show pretty much evaporated.
ICYMI, Sylvie is a Loki variant who was caught by the Time Variance Authority at a young age, but she managed to (easily, so easily it was insulting) escape and hide in apocalypses her entire life plotting how to destroy the TVA for kidnapping her and removing her from her own timeline. Now, granted, on paper, that backstory is okay-ish, but Sylvie is my newest entry on the exhaustingly long list of fictional characters who suffer from what I call White Bitch Syndrome.
Now, I still plan to write a full essay on White Bitch Syndrome, but let me do a short definition here. White Bitch Syndrome is when a female character—and most of the time, she is white and blonde—in a work of fiction is given undeserved credit and disrupts the dynamic of whatever work of fiction she is in, causing negative consequences for those around her but never having to suffer those same consequences herself. To me, she is almost a subversion of a Mary Sue. She takes valuable screentime away from other far more interesting and well-written characters and does all of it with a sense of entitlement that makes me want to pull my hair out.
And that’s exactly what Sylvie is.
I cannot fathom what made the writing team for Loki decide that they should give 60% of Loki’s screentime to this snotty, entitled, obnoxious Loki variant. As soon as episode three hits, she completely co-ops Loki’s show to make it all about her.
And here’s the kicker: she’s not even interesting.
It’s a bait-and-switch. I came here for Loki (or Tom Hiddleston, depends on who you ask) and what did you do? You found the world’s most irritating white woman and gave her his show. This isn’t why I came here. At all. So not only did you give me something I don’t want, you didn’t bother to make her likable or even just interesting in general. The rules of writing, at least in my mind, are to make main protagonists in a work either likable or interesting. Sylvie is neither. She is such a borderline Mary Sue. She’s stronger, smarter, more powerful than everyone around her, she constantly shoots her mouth off to disparage Loki and the other characters, she thinks she’s better than everyone and the writing of the show seems to agree, and she makes EVERYTHING about her every second she’s on screen. It’s insufferable.
But that’s not the worst part.
What truly broke me was episode 4. I had to put up with this snotty character, fine, okay, as long as maybe I get some good Loki content with what little screentime he has left after she’s sucked it all up. No. It had to get worse. The show then states—after only one and a half episodes of interactions—that Loki has a crush on Sylvie/is attached to her.
Seriously?
He’s known her for like five minutes.
What the hell do you mean he likes her?
This element of Loki (2021) is what switched me from disliking it to outright hating it. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate it when fiction generates attachment between two characters without doing the leg work first. There are few things I hate as much as when characters barely interact and then the fiction states that now they’re in love or best friends or care about each other when there is little evidence in the work itself. Loki and Sylvie spent the entire third episode hating one another. The dynamic comes across like a brother and sister who can’t stand each other being stuck in the same place, having to make nice. Then the show just decides Loki is into her, despite no evidence, despite limited screen time, despite Sylvie showing no regard or concern for him at all. It comes across as the show telling us “this is a thing because I said so.”
And that’s not good enough.
Look, I know I’m biased. I’m attached to Loki and I don’t like blonde white women in fiction because of repeated instances of White Bitch Syndrome. But this isn’t jealousy. This is lousy writing. It is lousy of them to stuff this character into the narrative to take the focus away from Loki and it’s lousy of them to have Loki inexplicably have some sort of attachment to her when the evidence points to the opposite. He should simply be using her to get what he wants, but instead they have him following after her like a helpless puppy because her Super Special Awesome Powers are so much better than his and he can’t do anything on his own. They took a show with a unique premise and made a hard left, instead making it a platform for “ooh, look at this cool white girl” instead of keeping the focus on Loki trying to survive the TVA and destroy it. Loki honestly had more chemistry and attachment to Valkyrie–who soundly beat his ass and later begrudgingly tolerated him because they needed to stop Hela–than with Sylvie. I would believe he was into Valkyrie before I’d ever believe he was into Sylvie.
For me in particular, this is unacceptable because it just feels like Sylvie is nothing more than a vehicle for the white fangirls to imagine themselves into Loki’s story. It’s no secret that Loki’s fandom is majority female and I imagine it’s largely white women. Sylvie is a transparent Audience Surrogate Mary Sue-adjacent character designed to make said fangirls feel like they have a personal connection to Loki. They can easily see themselves as Sylvie and it seems to be the only real reason she was written into the story. If she had been properly written, she would have just remained a tangential antagonist either getting in Loki’s way or preventing him from reaching whatever goal he has for himself. There was no reason to write a forced wannabe romance into the story. It’s so unearned and unnecessary.
Alright, so I’ve made my case for why Sylvie sucks. Let’s pretend for a moment that I didn’t hate her with the fire of a thousand suns. That’s not the show’s only problem. Another reason why Loki (2021) began to tank for me is that Loki has almost no agency after the end of the second episode. The second he starts following Sylvie around, the show seems to forget this is a thousand-year-old demigod with magical powers and a wealth of schemes and plans. Everything from episode 3 onward has Loki little more than a doofus who likes to run his mouth. We don’t get to see any of that calculating intelligence that made us love Loki in his previous films and appearances. He’s not doing anything. He’s just stumbling from one place to the next utterly failing and not affecting change nor the plot itself. I fear part of the problem is that the writing staff took too much from Thor: Ragnarok without understanding that the film, while a comedy, also knew how to write a balanced Loki. We know Loki is capable of making mistakes, but the ones he commits in this show are egregious. It’s not organic to the character. It feels as if they are trying to emulate Ragnarok without allowing Loki the same agency and behaviors that made him so lovable in the first place. Think about it. Loki tricked Thor into thinking he was dead and impersonated Odin convincingly (or so we’re assuming, since we don’t catch up to him until 2017, which is 4 years after Thor: The Dark World) for entire years without anyone catching him. He then lands on Sakaar after Hela attacks and manages to worm his way into the Grandmaster’s good graces in only a matter of weeks. Loki has been an effective antagonist and part time protagonist for several films, which is why he’s been so popular. I don’t understand why they have written him completely bumbling and ineffective in this series after the halfway point in the story. In Fish Out of Water stories, you still need to have the protagonist affecting change and making important decisions that affect the plot and develop them as characters. He’s not learning anything, he’s not changing, he’s not growing. He’s stuck in the passenger’s seat while Sylvie drives the car off the cliff.
Speaking of unearned nonsense, this whole “friendship” between Mobius and Loki also annoys me. It’s like I’m not watching the same show. When did they become “friends”? Do they not know what that means? Presumably, Mobius and Loki spent several hours together investigating the Loki variant and while I actually quite like their banter, they too were not with each other long enough to consider each other friends. I don’t like it when fiction drops the F-word (friend, of course) unwarranted and this is another example. Mobius and Loki were at most colleagues. They were only together for two and a half episodes and then for a short bit in episode 4. The show yet again did not do the leg work but then handed us this forced claim of friendship when they’ve really just been enemies temporarily on the same side. I do think aspects of the relationship work, just not enough for the show to claim that now they are magically friends. It’s less of an eyesore than the claim that Loki likes Sylvie, but it’s still poorly written and has little evidence to back it up.
Another aspect of the show that bothers the hell out of me is they introduce Hunter B-15 and Judge Renslayer as powerful, competent women…and then sideline them. Hunter B-15 becomes Sylvie’s lackey after Sylvie’s enchantment caused her to remember her life before the TVA erased her memory. Hunter B-15 was introduced to us in a spectacular fashion, bitchslapping Loki and being an incredible force to be reckoned with. I remember being so excited to see a dark-skinned black woman on the Loki posters, hoping for more representation, and yet they’ve done what too many shows and movies have done with black women—forced them to be in the shadow of their white counterparts. Judge Renslayer is even more of a letdown that B-15. She is introduced as smart and coldly calculating, but then Mary Sue Sylvie EASILY beats her in combat and she’s turned into a mugging, desperate mess instead of someone who was ruling an entire organization with an iron fist for God-knows how long. It was fine for Renslayer to be off-balance finding out the Timekeepers weren’t real. What wasn’t fine was a white blonde woman domineering over a black woman who previously held authority. Renslayer presided over the TVA…and that’s the best she can do? Stall, lie, and babble in front of Sylvie? It’s so painfully obvious that the show wants to keep kissing Sylvie’s ass and insisting she’s the most powerful Loki of all and they sacrificed any potential greatness for Renslayer as a result. I don’t mind Renslayer turning out to be bad; she wasn’t giving off any other impression in the first place. What I do mind is having this white woman just sling her around like it’s nothing when Renslayer should be far more effective than that considering she’s been the boss for presumably years and years. Why the hell was she leading the TVA if she can’t even handle this one variant?
This issue in particular burns me up because while Marvel has been doing a really good job introducing people of color into the lineup and giving them agency, there has also been this trend of what I like to call checkmark diversity. This is when shows or movies include POC in a work as supporting characters in order to check off the diversity box, but they’re not actually giving these POC much to do. They are constantly overshadowed by the white characters instead. The show gets to claim they’re progressive and diverse, but when you look at the POC’s storylines and interactions, you actually don’t end up with anything other than window dressing. I can tell you several different ideas I had for what would become of Hunter B-15 and Renslayer, but none of those came to fruition. The focus remained on the three central white characters: Loki, Sylvie, and Mobius. We know for a fact that the MCU can write excellent black characters like Sam Wilson, Monica Rambeau, and Luke Cage. It’s a damn shame to have two enjoyable black women on this show and they’re just there to fill in a checkbox. It’s especially sad since I’ve seen some behind the scenes bits with the actresses and Tom Hiddleston and they get along wonderfully. It’s truly adorable seeing some of their interactions, so for the show to have them both end up doormats to the white leads is an utter disappointment for me personally as a black fangirl.
At the time of this post, there is still the Loki finale to be watched. Honestly, though, I have no hopes for it any longer. I had hoped that with the plot of episode 5 being Loki in what is basically Purgatory with other versions of himself that we’d get the focus back on him and his desires, but no. Sylvie finds him in like 10 minutes of screentime and goes right to making everything about her, fulfilling her White Bitch Syndrome duties and securing herself as a Mary Sue-adjacent character. I’m tired. I will watch the finale, but I’m expecting it to be just as disappointing as it’s been since the halfway point in the series.
It hurts me to say these things. I’ve written a metric ton of Loki/MCU fanfiction. I truly enjoy his character. I cried like a baby when he died in Infinity War. I really like him, but this show stupidly managed to take from him rather than give him more things, ironically enough. It’s not yet to a point where I declare it Discontinuity, but I am unfortunately not going to be really be taking anything away from this series. I’m probably going to ignore it and go back to my Denial Land of fanfiction instead.
My final point is that Loki (2021) is a cautionary tale because of its utterly squandered potential. The show’s trailers promised lots of things that looked amazing, but then once you pull off the cloak, all you get is a snotty OC and a very diminished, borderline derivative version of Loki. I am far more satisfied with the canon timeline Loki than with this Loki variant, which is a shame. I’m not to a point that I wouldn’t recommend the show, but of the MCU shows, Loki is certainly the weakest. It doesn’t live up to what it promised because of the writers’ inexplicable decision to give away his screentime to an entitled bratty character with, and this is just personal taste, a substandard actress with a grating performance. The lesson to be learned from this is that you have to know what you’re going after when you set off on a side story. The overall consequences of Loki have yet to be seen, but the implication is that the timeline is going to be destabilized and will then set off the Multiverse of Madness that will be addressed in Spider-Man 3: No Way Home and in Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness. That being said, I don’t think this show is strong enough to warrant anyone other than die-hard Loki fans a watch. I am open to the thought that maybe the finale will redeem the show, but it’s doubtful based on the evidence I currently have. More than likely, it’s going to go out on a whimper and not a bang and the romantic red string the writers forced around Loki’s neck is going to strangle him same as Thanos did.
I hope I’m wrong.
But I’m probably not.
Here’s to the multiverse. At least it has a version of Loki that’s not a disappointment.
I have done it, ladies and gentlemen. I have held the ever-coveted Tom Hiddleston in my arms.
And it was as glorious as it looks.
So funny story.
In August, I’d gotten bored at work and out of pure thirst curiosity, I Googled to see Tom Hiddleston’s remaining con appearances in 2018. Lo and behold, he was attending Ace Comic Con in Chicago, IL in October. I’d never been to Chicago and I have a friend who lives here and it was JUST enough time for me to save up some money to fly out for a three day weekend to meet the man I’ve been enamored with as of the last three or so years. And that’s exactly what I did. I bought a Saturday only ticket for my only 2018 “official” vacation to meet the utterly wonderful Tom Hiddleston.
Unfortunately, since I only found the con roughly two months out, all the autograph sessions were sold out, leaving only the photo op, but it’s not a huge deal and I love having photos snuggling awesome famous people anyway, as my followers know. I might be able to see him again someday in which I can say more than two things. As it stands, I probably would’ve ended up just giggling incessantly anyway if I’d have gotten an autograph from him today.
Anyone who is a veteran congoer knows that photo ops at MOST are ten seconds long. It’s simply because hundreds of fans show up and in order to cram all those photos within the time frame, it has to be that short. Therefore, I had to practice staying calm in the face of one of the most handsome bloody men I’ve ever met.
So here’s how it went down:
Me: *walks over to him and he puts one arm around me* Hi! Is it okay if we do a hug!
Hiddles: Sure!
**photo is taken**
Hiddles: That’s a beautiful dress, by the way!
Me: ^///////////////////////////////^ Thank you so much! You are phenomenal! Thank you! *scurries off*
Doesn’t that sound easy to say to him? Trust me, it wasn’t.
First off, Tom is tall af. I’m 5′8′’ and I was wearing 2 inch heels and he still sort of dwarfs me in this photo and I have A Whole Thing about tall men. They butter my egg roll something fierce.
Second off, he has the biggest, sunniest smile and it’s like staring into an eclipse. I was almost blindsided but his compliment of my dress–keep in mind, I BOUGHT THIS DRESS SPECIFICALLY FOR HIM AND HE COMPLIMENTED IT AND OMFG THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME YOU GUYS–is actually what helped kick my dazed little brain into remembering to speak to him. My Chris Evans photo op was heavenly, but he was so goddamn handsome and that hug was so goddamn good (he rubbed the small of my back before he let me go and I almost fainted dead away in his arms) that I got tongue-tied and didn’t get to tell him anything aside from “thank you” as I wobbled away on weak knees. Tom, however, unknowingly helped me out by complimenting me and that’s so wonderful I can’t even express it.
Third off, wow, hearing his voice up close is…hnnnnngh. There are no words. It’s like silk. It’s like velvet. Hiddleston’s voice is just plain powerful, and I don’t know how anyone is able to act opposite the man. He said two things to me in just a normal tone of voice and I wanted to just melt.
Lastly, the hug was so light and gentle. He’s a good hugger. He was very comfortable next to me and I loved that big friendly grin. Generally, I don’t photograph well and his grin was so infectious that I think it’s why it turned out so great.
I’m on cloud fucking nine. I really am. 2018 has been a hard, miserable year for me and this was finally a lump sum of good karma. I’m going to be high off of this Chicago trip for months and I can mark the incomparable Mr. Hiddleston off my Bucket List. (Although I do have very loose plans to try to catch him again for an autograph; I really do think he is an incredible actor and I’d love to tell him in detail, but we’ll see what 2019 has in store for me.)
And yes, it’ll be weeks before I wipe this idiotic fucking grin off my face.
#SorryNotSorry
#TheHiddlesThirstIsReal
Kyo out.
Is Loki evil?
Doesn’t that sound like such a simple question?
I mean, I could have answered that question quite easily back when we only had two movies to base the evidence on: Thor and the Avengers. Now that we’re at a total of five performances by the lovely Tom Hiddleston, I find myself struggling with evidence for and against this simple little question. It’s sort of made me consider that maybe the idea of good and evil isn’t as clean-cut as I once thought. I’m no stranger to grey area, but Loki has made me examine my own definition of evil now that we’ve gotten a complete scope of who he is as a character over the course of the Thor and MCU franchise. I thought it would be fun to muse over the question and see if I can draw an actual conclusion, or if I’ll remain undecided on the issue.
Naturally, major spoilers for every single film Loki has been in.
Evidence supporting evil:
- Arranging Thor’s banishment: Loki of course made the excuse that he was simply trying to stall Thor being crowned King of Asgard as “a bit of fun” and because he believes Thor is a buffoon. He egged his brother on to go after the Frost Giants, knowing Odin would blame Thor and cast him out, leaving the throne to eventually fall to him. Gee, what a nice thing to do to someone who was raised alongside you and shows clear signs of having loved you since the moment you met each other, Loki. You ass-hat.
- Plotting Odin’s assassination: Now we get into some tricky territory. Loki planned to secure himself as the hero and savior of Asgard by letting the Frost Giants into Asgard to slay his father and then killing Laufey in a double cross. It then gave him an excuse to wipe out the Frost Giants, thereby erasing his past and whatever feelings of guilt and inadequacy that their existence created in him. He also murdered his own damn father with zero remorse, and while I can agree that I can see why since Laufey appears to be nothing more than a monster who left him to die, it’s still incredibly messed up.
- Killing Thor: Yep. There’s no if, ands, or buts about it—Loki tried to kill his brother, innocent people, and Thor’s comrades to keep himself on the throne. He didn’t even seem remorseful about it either.
- Attempting genocide on the Frost Giants: This also speaks for itself. The reasoning here doesn’t hold water, either. Loki found out he wasn’t Odin’s son by blood and it twisted up inside him until it completely warped his view on his upbringing. Therefore, to him, eliminating the Frost Giants out of revenge for being abandoned and finding out he’s just a monster who looks like a prince made sense. Out of sight, out of mind. Still, even though the Frost Giants didn’t appear to be anything similar to good, decent beings, there is no excuse for genocide. Loki had no right to kill them all based on the actions of Laufey and Odin.
- Trying to kill Thor a second time on the Rainbow Bridge: This is a particular sting to me because Thor so clearly didn’t want to hurt Loki, and certainly didn’t want to kill him. One thing that tears me up about Loki’s selfish, cruel nature is what it does to Thor. Nothing pisses me off more than the fangirls trying to say that any of this shit is Thor’s fault. We never see Thor treat Loki wrong. At most, sure, he talked over him and has probably embarrassed him in the past, but there is no abuse shown in their background. Thor loves his brother to death. Truly, selflessly. It’s so tragic that Thor loves him unconditionally considering what happens next in their joined narrative. At the end of the day, Thor just wants his brother back. He doesn’t care about Loki being a Frost Giant. He wanted to fight by his side and laugh and do all the dumb things brothers do. So Loki trying to kill him twice in the same film where we see how much Thor’s family means to him is just a big fat gut-stabbing to the feels.
- Pretty much everything Loki does in The Avengers: the strongest argument for Loki being evil is largely here, in my opinion. I mean, we have blatant murder, mind control, plotting to have the mind-controlled Clint murder Natasha, at least two direct attempts to kill Thor, trying to kill all the Avengers as well as everyone aboard the helicarrier, killing Agent Coulson in cold blood, and then blowing up a good chunk of New York in the process of trying to rule the planet earth. Odin’s beard, this is Loki’s most evil actions that we’ve seen from him period. What’s so fascinating to me is that we still see just a peek that Loki pretends that he’s just an apathetic cold bastard, but then there are moments where we know that’s not the whole truth. The way he quietly asks Thor, “Did you mourn?” with this conflicted look that kind of sums up why I wanted to write this argument in the first place. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t care. Loki cares what Thor thinks of him, to some degree. It’s even in the scene atop Stark Tower where Thor tries again to bring his brother around. It’s very quick, but an actual tear slides down his face right before he stabs Thor and mutters, “Sentiment.” Loki keeps choosing the wrong side, choosing to be a selfish, thoughtless monster, and yet it’s still clear he feels fear, regret, remorse, and other emotions same as Thor does, but he refuses to let his emotions control his actions. He’s set course for the iceberg and he’s just going to crash into that thing no matter what. Good intentions mean nothing. The actions make the man, and the man is a monster in The Avengers.
- Guiding Malekith’s lieutenant to Odin’s bedchambers: Ooh, if there’s one thing that burns me up with Loki, it’s his constant blame and revenge against Odin. Don’t get me wrong—Odin’s no prize. He’s a garbage father by the time we piece together what he’s done since his sons (and as we discover in Ragnarok, his daughter too) were born and/or found, but in this case, Loki’s in the wrong in so many ways here. Odin showed mercy taking Loki in, and it doesn’t matter his intentions. Odin raised Loki alongside Thor as an equal and Loki, from what we can tell, was just as loved by their mother Frigga. He has no excuse to pretend like his background justifies his desire to see Odin dead. It’s all just to cover up his own shortcomings and envy. It’s just a damned shame that Frigga paid the price for Loki’s hateful nature.
- Faking his own death and bespelling Odin so he could impersonate him and keep the throne on Asgard: Once again, this one is such a freaking gut-stab to the feels. I want to slap Loki so hard for lying to Thor and making that poor man think he’s lost his brother again, and after saving his life. It’s just the worst. Loki is the most self-serving, egotistical piece of crap for doing this to Thor. It makes me want to throw Odin’s words right back in his smug face: “All this because Loki desires a throne.” “It’s my birthright!” “Your birthright was to die!” As mean as it is, Odin is right. Loki was shown mercy and what does he do with it? Get his mother killed and try to usurp the throne yet again, and not because he’d be a good ruler, simply to appease his damned ego.
- Trying to kill Valkyrie: Thank Odin he was soundly beaten senseless, but it’s messed up that Loki tries to kill Valkyrie so she can’t get in his way. It’s even worse since he forces her to relive the absolute worst moment of her life, although it ends up spurring her to do the right thing and help Thor save Asgard. Loki is such a bastard for that, for driving the knife in and twisting it.
- Betraying Thor on Sakaar: Thankfully, Thor had enough sense to know Loki would try it again, but even after all this time, Loki is perfectly happy to throw Thor to the wolves in order to get ahead. It’s worse because he knew the Grandmaster would either continue enslaving Thor or kill him outright. He couldn’t act as if there was some other fate awaiting Thor if his betrayal had panned out for him. It’s even worse when you consider the conversation right before it where Thor tells him, “Loki, I thought the world of you.” Loki’s so quick to blame Thor, to act offended when Thor suggested Loki stay on Sakaar if they get rid of the Grandmaster. He never holds himself accountable, just using that blanket “I’m the God of Mischief” excuse in place of accepting his reprehensible actions.
- Stealing the Tesseract from Asgard during Ragnarok: As we come to find Loki’s fate in Infinity War, all I can think is this could have been avoided if he’d left the damned thing there. Loki, Loki, Loki, why are you like this? Half of Asgard would still be alive if he hadn’t taken it from Odin’s vault before Asgard was destroyed. Does that mean that Thanos would have failed? Who knows. But Loki’s decision costs him his life, Heimdall his life, and also the lives of many innocent Asgardians thanks to his power-hungry nature. I suppose this argument is sort of answered in that Loki pays for his selfish act with his life, but it also ends up being a point for and against him, as you’ll see below.
When you add all that up, it makes quite the statement. We have strong evidence to support the “Loki is evil” argument. He is vain, self-centered, ego-centric, callous, and most definitely a sociopath of epic proportions. Everything he does is in service to himself, for the most part. He wants power and he wants attention (or as Tony so cleverly put it, “he’s a full-tilt diva.”) Loki appears to love nothing except himself and nearly everything he does serves that purpose.
But not everything.
Evidence against evil:
- Goading Thor into fighting him on the Rainbow Bridge: the action itself doesn’t present a counterargument to the “Loki is evil” theory, but it does poke a hole in it. It’s a very carefully written scene, in my opinion, because now we see the cracks in Loki’s metaphorical armor. Loki pretends he’s this big bad wolf, but some of that young pup comes out through this scene where Thor demands that Loki turn off the Bi-Frost to prevent him from destroying Jotunheim. He’s so desperate to prove himself and to accept this “I’m a monster” mentality that he keeps pressing Thor to fight him, knowing that Thor doesn’t want to and that he wants it all to be over. He could have ended it all right then and there and it’s possible that Loki would have just served a sentence for his crimes instead of being executed, but Loki can’t accept his past and rejects everything in favor of becoming the monster of his origin. What also gives me some massive feels is a line that I’ve long debated with myself about being genuine: when Thor puts together that he can’t stop the Bi-Frost, so he starts destroying the bridge and Loki yells, “What are you doing? If you destroy the bridge, you’ll never see her again!” Ouch. You could definitely use that exclamation for both the argument and the counterargument. On the one hand, maybe Loki is just trying to manipulate Thor to get him to stop destroying the bridge. On the other hand, maybe Loki does realize what a selfless thing Thor is doing and some part of him doesn’t want Thor to suffer being stuck on Asgard away from the woman he was falling in love with. It’s a delightfully ambiguous line. Does Loki actually mean it? He still tries to stop him right after this line, but that doesn’t make it completely invalid. It’s a vastly interesting idea in and of itself. The whole struggle between the two is that Thor loves him and wants them to be brothers again, and Loki cut himself off from his adopted family and wants to rule so he doesn’t have to accept being an outcast. So does Loki actually have a remnant of his old self somewhere inside him and that’s the part of him that called out to Thor when he was destroying the bridge?
- Loki’s reaction to Frigga’s death: Alright, here’s where the gloves come off in terms of Loki’s characterization over the course of the Marvel films. Loki and Frigga have an argument shortly before Loki guides Malekith’s lieutenant to Odin’s bedchambers and unfortunately Frigga dies defending Jane. Loki loses it. He’s a complete and utter wreck when Thor returns after Loki has gotten the news, and Loki knows it’s all his fault. He’s so wracked with guilt that he doesn’t even reveal to anyone that it was because of him. What gets me—and this is a testament to Tom’s skill as an actor—is that vulnerable little question right when Thor sees through Loki’s illusion: “Did she suffer?” Ouch. Oh man. It’s now apparent that the big bad wolf is a scared pup inside, at least for a moment. He knows he’s screwed up and he can’t take it back. It’s definitely sealed on the scene as they travel to meet Malekith on the abandoned planet: “Trust my rage.” One of the only real, true things we see from Loki is his desire to get revenge for Frigga’s death.
- Loki saving Thor on the Night Elves’ planet: For once, he actually follows through with Thor’s plan and tries to help him stop Malekith. He even saves Thor’s life, and while it ended up being a con in the end, I still think that was a genuine moment of Loki being Thor’s brother again. He could have let Thor die, let Malekith consume the nine realms, and just rule another world in the ashes of what’s left, or he could have become a true ally of Malekith’s as well, but he didn’t. He stuck to the plan and he saved Thor when he didn’t have to and that’s surprisingly touching considering the monstrous things Loki has done in the past.
- Loki shedding tears upon Odin’s death: Tom Hiddleston is a hell of an actor, man. I have to keep giving him props for knocking this complicated character out of the park. There are two interactions that are truly important during this scene: First, the look of shame on Loki’s face as he steps up next to Odin after apparently casting a spell so strong that it took Odin months or years (the timeline is a bit hard to tell, but Thor says it’s been two years since Ultron, so that gives you an idea of how long Odin had to have been on Earth either still bespelled or accepting his exile) and yet Odin doesn’t strike him, yell at him, or even denounce him for it. Odin says, “my sons.” Loki glances over at him, and the look of utter disbelief and vulnerability on Loki’s face is just like a kick in the nuts. That one expression shows that after all is said and done, Loki still wants a family. He still cares what Odin thinks of him, and he’s been wrapped up in this cocoon of hatred only to find out that maybe he was wrong the whole time to assume Odin rejected him for Thor, or to assume Odin hated him after all that he’d done. For just a second, Loki sees the light and sees the truth. Second, as Odin’s ashes float off into the ocean, Loki openly weeps. Wow, wow, wow, does Hiddleston kill this part of the movie. It truly tugs at the heartstrings to see that in spite of how many times Loki’s betrayed Odin, he sheds tears at his father’s passing, and after finding out that after all this time Odin still calls him son. Monsters don’t cry. Human beings do. Loki is still human. Maybe not completely, but there is definitely a part of him that isn’t a monster.
- Trying to convince Thor not to fight the champion on Sakaar: Again, this is definitely pretty self-serving here. As much as Loki despises Thor, he knows good and well that Thor is a contender and Thor could help him overthrow the Grandmaster if they banded together. I think Loki actually meant it, personally, that he would get Thor out of the arena fights and they’d just try to survive on Sakaar in the meantime until they figured out what to do. What also seals it is Thor’s refusal to speak and it genuinely bothers Loki. He starts to prod him to reply and gets more agitated the longer Thor just sits there and stares at him. I dig that a lot. That’s a great scene, because in spite of all the horrid things Loki’s done, part of him still wants to be reunited with his brother. He just can’t help himself. He wants acceptance and he wants power and he wants to prove that he’s just as good and worthy as Thor at the end of the day. He even shows signs of worrying about Thor fighting the champion since the champion is undefeated. In the end, Loki just closes back up again and becomes his same old self, but the fact that he reveals his plan to Thor and tries to get him to go along with it suggests that he still cares. He doesn’t want to, but he does.
- The elevator conversation during the escape from Sakaar: Thor crushes my heart into paste with this scene, which is a testament to the awesomeness of Chris Hemsworth. It hits me so hard when Loki says, “Do you truly think so little of me, brother?” and Thor just looks at him and says, “Loki, I thought the world of you. I thought we were going to fight side by side forever.” Oh, my heart. It hurts so much when the camera pans back and Loki’s honestly stunned. As mentioned above with Odin’s death scene, Loki figures out that he was wrong about what Thor thought of him this whole time and wrong about their relationship as well. Thor has been forced to fight Loki time and time again, and yet he always tries to be kind or show him mercy because Thor is just that kind of loving, genuine person. Loki lies to himself and believes that Thor is a thoughtless bully who always wants to show him up, but here he realizes it’s not true and maybe it never has been. Loki constantly projects his own rejection onto Thor and uses it as an excuse for being the villain. He thinks he’s a monster, and this is what monsters do: they turn on their loved ones and they try to get ahead. For just a moment, Loki can’t help but face the fact that Thor loves him in spite of all that he’s done.
- Loki returning to Asgard to help: again, yes, this is mostly because Loki is a full tilt diva and he wants Asgard to know he’s coming back to be their “savior.” (My God, was that not the most satisfyingly over-the-top reveal? I love you, Loki, you little extra shit.) While it’s mostly so he can get some recognition, Loki still risks his life to protect the people of Asgard and help the Revengers defeat Hela. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have gone. He would have stayed on Sakaar and tried to overthrow the Grandmaster. I like the small touch of Thor coming back from facing down Hela and Thor says, “You’re late” and a visibly worried Loki replies, “You’re missing an eye.” Oh, and Thor saying Loki’s late? Another body slam to the feels. Thor had been hoping Loki would come around and believing that he would, and Loki came through. The big dopey smile Thor has on his face when the ship shows up does me a world of good, man. I just can’t emphasize how much I love Thor’s endless forgiveness and desire to see his brother be what he could have been all along: an ally. For just one instance, Loki lives up to the potential he’s been unconsciously seeking the whole time over the course of his journey as a character. He could be that guy. He could be the hero and the brother that Thor deserves, and that he himself deserves to see and believe in. It’s such a great show of the complexities that mix together to form this ridiculous horn-having, hair-flipping demigod.
- Loki and Thor’s scene on the ship: “I’m here.” Loki didn’t run away. He’s there with Thor in the end and Thor’s so happy about it that it makes me cry knowing it’ll all go to shit soon afterward in Infinity War. The warmth we see from the two Odinsons in that scene could make the Eternal Flame tremble in comparison. It’s one of the rare scenes that Loki shows some honesty and good will towards Thor, even if he still has ulterior motives behind the scenes.
- Loki dies trying to save Thor. Oh, boy. Here is the mother of all convincing facts that maybe Loki isn’t entirely evil. As we approached Infinity War, my gut had been telling me that based on his character development and the arc the MCU set him on, Loki would die giving up the Tesseract in order to save Thor’s life. However, it’s one thing for me to have had this theory beforehand and an entirely different thing to watch Loki die in an attempt to save his brother. It hurt me deeply. It hurt me simply because if Thor hadn’t kept believing in Loki and loving Loki in spite of all his horrible actions, Loki would have simply let Thanos kill him. What really tears the scene is that Loki does try to just let Thanos kill Thor rather than give up the Tesseract, but then he watches his brother scream in agony at Thanos’ hands and he simply can’t go through with it. It just destroys me that there were tears in his eyes as he watched Thor suffer and in the end, he tried to do the right thing, and he died protecting his brother. It was inevitable that Loki would meet his end this way, but it still says so much about the powerful relationship we’ve seen change and grow from the first Thor movie to now. Does it invalidate all the evil he’s done in other movies? Hell no. However, it definitely is the most compelling counterargument for this essay that Loki isn’t completely evil. He made his own bed and he’s finally had to lie down in it, but he went out trying to repay his brother’s love after so many years of betrayal. It breaks my heart, honestly.
So what does it all mean, in the end?
If we go by actions alone, the bad outweighs the good and Loki is evil. However, how do you define evil? If we go by Webster’s definition, we find that evil is: “morally reprehensible” or “arising from actual or imputed bad character or conduct.” Is evil simply the absence of good? If so, then no, Loki isn’t evil. There is good in him. There’s more bad than good, but it’s still there and in the end he chose to do the right thing rather than defaulting into his old ways. Furthermore, is he evil in part of the story and not in the rest? Possibly, yes. What makes Loki so hard to pin down is the fact that up until Infinity War it’s an ongoing story, so if you pluck him out at certain points, it’s still open for debate what constitutes as evil. He certainly is evil for large chunks of his overall storyline, but when he develops, the picture gets away blurry and hard to describe. In that case, what is the measure of evil? Is it the whole journey or the ending? Can the lives he’s taken be weighed against the lives he’s saved? What tips the balance on the scales of the soul?
I hope you guys know, ‘cause I sure don’t.
All I can safely say is that Loki is complex. He’s mostly bad, but the streak of good in him has honestly saved lives, so it’s hard to throw him away completely as the villain. He’s neither totally the villain nor anti-hero, but just this sassy asshole who straddles the fence. Big props to the many writers who brought our brilliant trashlord to life. He shall be sorely missed.
Man, it’s rough when an entertainment company you love breaks their winning streak.
Marvel’s been cranking out consistently good material both in the cinematic universe and in the television universe for years now, and I think maybe we all got so used to it that we forgot it’s possible to completely miss the mark. To me, that’s what their latest venture, Iron Fist, is in essence: a swing and a miss.
To be frank, I rage quit the pilot to Iron Fist twice. Keep in mind, I wasn’t one of the naysayers who hated it before it came out and I actually didn’t listen to the early negative reviews because I knew there were people who wanted to hate it right out of the gate and nothing was going to change their minds. I saw the trailer and felt underwhelmed, but with Marvel’s excellent track record, I was willing to give it a try. This is not to say that I haven’t had problems with a few Marvel properties before. For instance, I didn’t finish Jessica Jones—not because it wasn’t good, but rather because I was not the key demographic for that show. Being an urban fantasy author, I have seen the exact same archetype that Jessica Jones is about a million times and so I was already burned out on the “inexplicably attractive but perpetually rude and standoffish private detective with super special powers” trope long before the show came around. Plus, the pacing was too slow and I wasn’t a fan of the gratuitous sex scenes with the far superior character of Luke Cage.
So why did I rage quit Iron Fist?
In order to understand why I’ve included Iron Fist in the cautionary tales catalog on my blog, let’s take a look at just what made me quit watching the pilot twice in the same day. Let’s do a comparison between the first fifteen minutes of Daredevil, Luke Cage, and Iron Fist, and see if you can understand my utter frustration with this new show.
In the first fifteen minutes of Daredevil, here is what is established:
-How Matt Murdock lost his eyesight as a child and gained his powers saving an old man’s life
-Matt’s devout Catholicism and conflicted conscious because of how he misses his father and realizes how much they are alike in having “the devil” in them
-Matt goes down to the docks and stops a bunch a human traffickers from kidnapping innocent women
-Gives us that unforgettable opening sequence of blood over the city
-Introduces the unbelievably perfect Foggy Nelson and what he does for a living with Matt as well as the friend they have on the police force
-Introduces Karen Page and her predicament
-Introduces the dynamic between Karen, Matt, and Foggy
In the first fifteen minutes of Luke Cage, here is what is established:
-That funky, colorful opening sequence
-Introduces Pops and his shop members as well as Luke’s overall cool-as-a-cucumber-but-don’t-push-your-luck-fool attitude
-Introduces a minor character and her son who will impact the plot later on
-Establishes the relationship between Luke and Pops and hints at Luke’s powers
-Hints at Luke’s backstory and shows us his daily struggles to find rent money and his desire to stay under the radar even though he could do more if he wanted to
-Introduces Harlem’s Paradise as well as the first two main villains, Cottonmouth and Mariah
And in the first fifteen minutes of Iron Fist, here is what is established:
-A bland, forgettable afterthought of an opening sequence
-Danny thinks he owns a building
-Danny thinks people he knew over a decade ago still work at his father’s company
-Danny thinks he can talk to the CEO of a company with no appointment and zero proof that he is the founder’s son who was believed to have died in a plane crash a decade ago
-Danny thinks that two people he knew when he was a kid would recognize him as an adult and after he was presumed dead as a child
-Danny presumably has no money and no shoes and just sleeps in the park after meeting a bum who ends up not contributing to the narrative whatsoever
-Danny, still looking homeless, starts speaking Mandarin to the Asian girl hanging up dojo fliers
-Danny breaks into his old house and walks around like it’s not big deal
-Danny’s relationship with Ward is revealed as abusive
Do you see the stark difference between these shows? How is it that Daredevil and Luke Cage can establish that much story in a quarter of the runtime and yet Iron Fist establishes almost nothing in the same amount of time? This is exactly why I couldn’t get through Iron Fist’s pilot in one sitting. First of all, Danny is characterized like an entitled douchebag. We don’t know anything about him other than he’s woefully naïve and just assumes that everything will fall into place for him without concrete evidence towards his claims. We don’t know why he came back to the city or what his mission is, whereas with both of our other examples, we are quickly shown the character’s personalities and what they are working towards. All we know is that Danny thinks he owns the company, but yet we see no skillset that suggests he even could run it when he doesn’t even have the good sense to wear shoes while walking through New York or to find some kind of proof that he is in fact Danny Rand.
I’ve been describing Iron Fist’s script as “something that was written the night before it was due and was never revised.” Now that the whole show is up on Netflix, we’re starting to get stories that fill in why this show is falling flat on its face, such as the fact that Finn Jones, the titular Danny, only trained three weeks before shooting a show about martial arts. That’s unheard of. If you check the backgrounds of most actors who are cast as superheroes, they train for literal months at a time—not only so that they are physically intimidating, but so that the fight choreography is nuanced, believable, and a joy to watch. For example, one of my favorite modern fight scenes is Captain America (Chris Evans) versus Batroc (Georges St. Pierre) because Chris Evans trained for months to be able to do a majority of the shots in that amazing fight scene since he is in fact opposite a real UFC fighter. It is painfully obvious when Danny Rand fights that he isn’t a martial artist, and it would be different if it were like Daredevil when you have the complicated routines performed by an amazing stunt double. I didn’t make it past the pilot, but I’ve heard that Iron Fist’s fight choreography centered around Finn Jones is underwhelming at best, and it’s impossible not to make a comparison to either Daredevil or Luke Cage, which had intense fight scenes that were both unique and engrossing.
Furthermore, even if you forget the sloppy fighting, the dialogue is wooden and poorly done. Dialogue is about moving the plot forward, making complications between characters, or solving a problem, and none of that is included in the pilot episode of Iron Fist. It is so obvious that they are dumping exposition on your head. They don’t even try to hide it. Hell, the two main villains basically have a meeting where absolutely nothing gets done. They just meet to show the audience that they’re evil and in cahootz with each other. They don’t solve the problem at hand; they instead regurgitate rancid dialogue to establish their relationship.
Lastly, it also doesn’t help that Danny comes across as a pretentious college kid who spent one summer abroad and thinks he’s a dyed-in-the-wool Buddhist martial artist. He once again finds the Asian girl and starts condescendingly telling her that she should teach kung fu if she wants more students, mansplains that he’s supposed to “fight the master of the dojo” now that he has entered their city, and asserts that she should just give him a job even though he still looks like a crazy hobo. Understandably, she tells him to get lost, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth that he’s so arrogant. The troublesome part is that arrogance is a normal thing in certain heroes like Tony Stark or Thor, but even in those movies, we are immediately shown that both of them have a heart and are just spoiled rather than truly being douchebags. Danny doesn’t give us a moment of humanity in the pilot. He doesn’t give us a reason to care about him, and at the end of the day, if you don’t do that in the first episode of your show, odds are that you are doomed to fail.
In the end, even though I can’t fully judge the show since I won’t be finishing it, I think this is a product of Marvel rushing to put something out so that they have time to work on the Defenders instead. Danny Rand is an afterthought. This whole show feels like an afterthought. It doesn’t have a flavor. It doesn’t have the careful writing or beautiful cinematography of any of its siblings. If nothing else, then Iron Fist teaches us caution—that even when you’re on a winning streak you can still bomb out if you don’t take your time and tell a story worth telling. Even the mighty Marvel can trip and fall. No one is above that.
Let’s just hope they try harder with the upcoming Defenders show.
So. This year has been an enormous, raging, uncontrollable garbage fire, but at least it gave us some good movies. Here’s my shortlist of the best movies for 2016 that have been released.
Captain America: Civil War: I don’t think anyone’s shocked at this being one of my first picks for the best of 2016. Like the Avengers, this movie gives me a massive rush of fangasm to see so many of our Marvel heroes in one story, and it’s great because not only do we know the core team, but we also get introduced to some new faces. Everyone went into this movie expecting to love the fight scenes—which were incredible—and yet we all came out with the same consensus: bump the main team, we need 1000000% more Black Panther and Spider-Man. I am truly blown away how much I liked those two. They were by far the biggest standout characters introduced into the MCU and I cannot wait for both of their solo films, because they have proven to be incredibly interesting. Still, I of course give the movie credit for being the most heart-wrenching film in the MCU canon. We were hit hard and often in the feels, from losing Peggy Carter to seeing Tony and Steve’s friendship fall apart to seeing poor Bucky being used against his will to murder the innocent. It’s a phenomenal film with all the right elements and it has a massive rewatch quality for that same reason.
Moana: Again, this is no surprise. I am a huge Disney fan, and I am especially a fan of Disney princess films and how they have evolved over the decades. Moana is exactly that: the natural progression of a Disney princess with modern day writing. Honestly, it’s like the movie had a checklist of “impossibly awesome things” and it just checked them off one by one. Likable, realistic protagonist? Check. Creative, visually-stunning environment? Check. Bechdel Test pass? Check. Hilarious lines? Check. Catchy-as-hell musical numbers? Check. Gripping story with plenty of action and adventure? Check. Open exploration of people of color, also portrayed by people of color? Check, check, check. This film is a dream. It’s just so exciting and wonderful and powerful that I’ve already seen it twice and I’m trying my hardest not to see it a third time before it leaves theaters. So few films understand that there is a difference between seeing a movie and experiencing a movie. Moana is an experience. I found myself tearing up at the oddest moments, at moments that weren’t even sad, because I was just so wrapped up in the adventure and how it made me feel like anything was possible and that I got to be on this journey with these wonderful characters. Call me petty, but I am so damned glad that Moana was the one to take the crown away from Frozen in terms of opening weekend. Every bit of praise this film has gotten is more than well-earned. It’s practically demanded.
Storks: This one sort of slipped by a lot of people due to when it was released, but Storks was just the quirky kids’ film that I was looking for and I really enjoyed it. Even though I want to say they marketed it as the makers of the Lego Movie, this film smacks a lot of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, in terms of 70% of the jokes being Lampshade Hanging. It could really be argued that it’s more for teens and adults than it is for kids’, and I think the box office and its critical reception reflect that. It’s certainly not a bad thing, either. I was howling. It’s extremely creative, the performances are hilarious, and the humor is spot on. I told my parents to rent it one day so they can crack up at all the great parenting jokes. I consider it a hidden gem among the 2016 films and it’s worth a watch if you haven’t seen it.
Zootopia: Before Moana blew my mind, Zootopia was the other Disney film that completely made me fall head-over-heels in love with it, and I still am to this day. The last time I’ve watched a Disney film this many times, it was Tangled all the way back in 2010. I love Zootopia so much that I own two versions of it: the DVD and the Amazon streaming digital video, though to be fair, I didn’t know Netflix would add it to their library this fall. Zootopia is life. It’s such a well told story with an amazing examination of all kinds of prejudice, from basic sexism to complicated accidental reinforced stereotypes to obvious bigotry. I haven’t seen an animated film handle these concepts this well since Cats Don’t Dance. It’s so relevant now considering what’s been going on the past several years and yet even without the strongly worded, mature message, it’s just an enjoyable film with delightful characters.
The Legend of Tarzan: Oh, quit gaping at me. This movie was also pretty much panned by most people, but no one really disliked it moreso than they were just indifferent to it. Of the movies on my list, this is definitely at the bottom, but regardless, I actually really enjoyed this movie. To be clear, I didn’t expect to. The trailers were pretty generic and I really adore Disney’s take on Tarzan, so I wasn’t really in the market for a new interpretation, but once I saw that it wasn’t Disney remaking itself like it’s been doing in recent years, I decided to give it a try. (And half naked Alexander Skarsgaard is hard to say no to.) I discovered a surprisingly thoughtful film that paid respect to both sides of the fence in terms of nature and man. It doesn’t browbeat and it doesn’t have the same white savior problem that a lot of films similar to it tend to have. I really loved the flashback scenes of Tarzan’s early life. They were gripping and deeply emotional, and the performances were excellent, as was the cinematography and the soundtrack. I would argue it’s worth a watch or a rental for that same reason. I do admit that Margot Robbie is extremely damsel-y and useless, and Christoph Waltz is completely wasted on this script, but everything else about the film was good.
Deadpool: This needs no explanation. It was perfection. You know and I know it. Boom.
Kubo and the Two Strings: Like Storks, Kubo was sort of a niche marketed film, really only made for those who are really passionate about animated fairytales. Well, I am one of those people. I adore Laika productions, and Kubo is no exception. It’s a masterfully told, utterly moving, impressively beautiful film. It’s mature, but it still is palatable for children and young adults. If nothing else, Kubo needs to be seen for how rich and vibrant and detailed its cinematography is, and considering everything is stop-motion, it demands to be appreciated. The only downside is that unfortunately, the cast is not as diverse as it should have been. Don’t get me wrong: the voices chosen totally fit the characters and each actor did one hell of a job, but I still find myself disappointed that a movie set in feudal Japan has so few Japanese actors in it. The biggest casualty is George Takei, who had about three lines as a minor character. What the hell, Hollywood. It’s friggin’ George Takei and you didn’t give him a main role? Shame on you! Despite that shortcoming, Kubo is phenomenal and should not be missed.
I’ve got two more films on the docket for 2016: Rogue One and Passengers, so stay tuned for a possible update to this list in a couple of weeks. Have a happy!
In case you missed it, Netflix’s original series Daredevil is like a second Christmas. You wait all year long for it, anticipating it highly, and staring obsessively at the clock the night before hoping you got everything you wanted. And in many respects, it actually delivers. It’s a smart, biting, gritty, (mostly) realistic show that details a vigilante’s struggle against the criminal element while also examining the inner demons he fights along the way. The first season made a huge splash because none of us expected it to be anywhere near as good as it was because we’ve sadly had to get accustomed to the TV-budget versions of heroes where nearly all of their comic book storylines are adapted and changed. (I’ve come to call it “CW-ing” them.) Because Netflix isn’t bound by ratings or having to stay PG-13, it was allowed to take a LOT of risks and to more directly adapt some of the storylines and character beats from the comics. Let’s take a look at what it has to teach us now that we’ve got two seasons under our belts.
As always, massive spoilers ahead. Don’t read if you’re not updated on both seasons yet.
1. The fastest way to a great story is investing time in your main cast. For me, this is the main reason why I love the Daredevil series. Often with superhero-related stories, the writers feel the need to rush to the action, and so you end up with some gorgeous fight sequences but it doesn’t have an impact on your audience because we’re not invested in the character. For me, this was one of the biggest issues I had with Man of Steel. Sure, I liked Clark alright, but I didn’t really know much about him because the story rushed onward to get to different set pieces and introduce the new cast. With Daredevil, we are shown all sides of Matt Murdock, from the pure and holy to the nitty gritty darkness nestled inside him. We see him struggle from childhood to teenage years to college years to his adulthood with suppressed anger at the injustice he’s had to watch in Hell’s Kitchen. We see that he is without a doubt a good man who wants to save people, but that he is also extremely flawed. Therefore, when his life is in danger, you get those “clutch your arm rest and squirm” moments when you see him getting his ass kicked by the scum of Hell’s Kitchen.
But that’s not all. Not only do we see a full-spread of emotions and intricacies for Matt Murdock, but we’re also treated to fantastic supporting characters like Foggy Nelson, Claire Temple, Ben Yorick, and even the freaking villain himself Wilson Fisk. (I’ve left Karen off for now, but don’t worry, we’ll circle back around to her further down.) I can’t believe how amazing the character development was for the supporting characters in this series. We get to learn so much about them and they are so damned easy to love. My personal favorites are Claire Temple and Foggy Nelson, who are both excellent contrasts to Matt Murdock. Claire is strong, decisive, smart, and compassionate, but still vulnerable. Foggy is hilarious, heart-warmingly kind, razor-sharp, and brave, but often shy and non-confrontational. They do so much to smack some sense into Matt (though it doesn’t exactly stick) and even though he frustrates them to no end, they still care for him either way. In the case of Wilson Fisk, we are shown that he is basically an animal in a human suit, but it comes with a solid reason when his background is revealed. One of the best writing rules is that villains see themselves at the hero of their own story, and this is very much the case for Wilson Fisk. He thinks razing the city to the ground and starting over is the only way to save it, and while he’s definitely a brute, it’s easy to understand why he thinks that way.
As a writer, I can attest to the fact that I very strongly believe that getting your readers invested in the characters as soon as possible is the right way to go. The reason is that it will allow you the time you need to set up a great story once you have your audience’s full attention and trust. We are often more tolerant of a story taking time to develop if we immediately are entertained or grow fond of our protagonists and antagonists right off the bat. You can make me believe the most ridiculous premise imaginable as long as I give a crap about the main leads. That’s the honest to God truth about writing.
2. Realism is a double-edged sword, to be used very carefully. Another reason Daredevil made a huge splash with its first season is that we got some of the most brutal yet realistic fight scenes ever. I mean, take a look at the hallway fight sequence.
God. It’s…breathtaking. This is not to say that movies and television don’t have realistic fights all the time, but according to Word of God, this was done in one freaking shot. One. That is incredible filmmaking. I mean, that’s some Emmy/Oscar worthy stuff right there, and that’s pretty much what cemented this series in the hearts of many fans. We love attention to detail with realism in today’s society.
For example, showing all the modern tech available for the blind was also massively interesting to me, from Matt’s alarm clock and ringtones to how he reads information on the Internet. It’s showing us the work that was put in to having a blind protagonist and not making it seem like he’s handicapped or anything less than a normal person. It’s a rarely seen perspective that is much appreciated. No pun intended.
However, the flip side of that is that the show quickly established that it wants to be realistic, but then we still have gaping logic holes in certain character’s actions on occasion that can REALLY snap you out of the story. In season one, we had the beloved Wesley, Wilson Fisk’s righthand man, kidnapping Karen Page and threatening her to give up her investigation…and then he puts a gun with live rounds right in front of her on a table. So guess what happens. I mean, really? Wesley is a career criminal who acts with total logic and discretion at all times and who has gotten out of many a scrape using his brain and connections and he goes out like a bitch. I hated it. I hated it so much, and it’s definitely a fault in the writing.
My second example comes from our recent season, where Frank Castle, aka the Punisher, escapes from prison and everyone is 100% certain he’s going to come after the District Attorney who put him there to begin with. So what do they do? Leave her alone in her office standing in front of not one but two HUGE windows despite the fact that the Punisher’s M.O. is to use high powered rifles to take out his targets through windows. I’m not kidding. She stands with her back to the biggest window ever for the entirety of her conversation with Nelson and Murdock, not wearing body armor and not even having a policeman in the room to check the perimeter. So guess what happens? For God’s sake, it was so frustrating that I had to turn off the episode and find something else to do while I was calming myself down.
If you have a story and you make it clear that you want to stick to realism, then you have to go all in. You can’t pick and choose when things will be realistic as hell and then completely back out on it in order to move the plot forward. It’s one or the other. It’s the same reason why I find Sharknado so utterly confusing, which I know is a weird comparison. The movie clearly is bad on purpose, and yet you still have these bizarre moments where it tries to operate on logic and physics when it is in fact a movie about flying sharks that somehow don’t suffocate in mid-air and still feel the need to eat people. One of these things is not like the other. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You have to be consistent in your writing, whether you lean towards realism or the fantastic.
3. Beware the Writer’s Pet. If you’re unfamiliar with TV Tropes, you should really get acquainted. It’s a wonderful site that collects well-known tropes in all forms of media and provides examples. It’s not only fun and hilarious, but it’s also a great teaching tool for writers. To that end, let’s discuss one right now with Karen Page.
I tried to give Karen Page a chance in season one. I really did. It was very sympathetic what happened to her with the death of her friend/coworker Daniel, and I like her gung-ho attitude about exposing the truth about the cover up and Fisk’s organization. However, as the season progressed, it became more and more clear that she was getting treatment that the other characters were not. Sometimes writers get this attachment to a character that puts them on a pedestal safe from harm even though every other character gets the shaft, or has to deal with the karma from their actions. Karen Page is definitely an example of a Writer’s Pet, of a character who gets the exception every single time and doesn’t have to work at not getting screwed over by the brutality of life. Karen Page has had it rough, but she constantly lucks out of every situation, much like another blonde from a television show whom I hate to the depths of my soul.
Writer’s Pets help absolutely no one. It is a bad habit. It seriously decreases the ability to like a character who can’t get themselves out of their own mess and who gets Deus Ex Machina’d out of every scrape even though the other protagonists are forced to make their own way. To me, Karen Page is a damsel in distress who is delusional and thinks she’s actually a badass investigator with street smarts. This show has been absolutely ruthless with its characters, often killing off sweet old ladies or showing bad guys attached to meat hooks with their guts spilling out, but sweet widdle Karen Page escapes everything without a damn scrape.
The lesson here is don’t wrap your characters up in bubble wrap and rock them to sleep. Punish them. Make them cry. Make them squirm. Make them suffer. You still have the choice to make it all worthwhile and to give them a happy ending if it fits the story and if they deserve one, but nothing will be gained by placing them on a pedestal because you just happen to like them so much. It’ll come through in your writing very clearly if you’re holding back because you have a favorite. It’s totally fine to have a favorite, but don’t get soft. If you love them, hurt them for the good of their growth and for the good of the story.
4. Take “Woobie” out of your writing repertoire forever. If you know anything about me, you know that I believe in the Jim Butcher school of “torture every character equally and make them earn their keep so your writing will be awesome.” Daredevil as a show does very well with this in both seasons, except for two characters so far. The first we’ve already discussed is Karen Page. The second, as of season two, is Frank Castle, aka The Punisher. It’s time to get on a bit of a soapbox in this particular case.
Woobification is basically when a clearly bad or evil character becomes someone whom the fandom dotes all their affection on and claims that they are the victim here instead of the antagonist. They are in fact wrong, and projecting their feelings onto this character for whatever reason. A good example of this is Grant Ward from the Agents of SHIELD franchise. He is literally a Neo-Nazi murderer who constantly excused his actions because of his abusive past, and he had a large portion of the AoS fandom on his side constantly excusing his behavior and “standing with him” no matter what horrible thing he did, from shooting people through the throat in cold blood to crashing an entire plane full of innocents just to get a ride into restricted areas. Grant Ward is trash, plain and simple. Yet somehow, he has fans.
Likewise, the Punisher has Karen Page. Seriously. We’re talking about a man who hung bad guys up on meat hooks alive and cut them open and let them slowly bleed to death and suffocate as they drowned in their own blood. And yet Karen Page repeatedly claims that, “He’s not a psychotic murderer!” every single time someone said that about him. This is a man who opened fire on her with a shotgun. This is a man who pistol-whipped someone until his face cracked open like an egg in front of her before shooting him in the head. This is a man who slits people’s throats with shivs. But no, he’s not a psychotic murderer even though a professional medical examiner proved that he suffers from a psychosis in which he constantly relives the death of his family, which bends his perception of reality to the point where he thinks he is never wrong and so he doesn’t regret any of the hundreds of lives he’s wiped out. Yeah, his family was brutally murdered and died in his arms. But guess what?
Writers of the world, I beg you to stop writing this damn trope.
Karen Page really does somehow think that Frank Castle isn’t the scum of the earth, and even though we know her Freudian excuse is that she murdered Wesley and she’s trying to excuse her own crime inwardly, there is no reason that they wrote her as a Punisher Stan in season two. Do not write a character as a monster and then spend the rest of your time trying to explain away his monstrosity. If you’re going to redeem him, do it. But don’t constantly browbeat us with flawed reasoning that he wasn’t as bad as we think he is. We’re okay with the grey area. We’re adults. Treat us like thinking adults. Most of us aren’t going to swallow this crap that he’s not such a bad guy or that he’s a good man when he hung people on meat hooks and split them open like pig carcasses and let them die in horrible screaming agony. Stop trying to make Fetch happen. It’s not going to happen.
5. Beware the “He Who Fights Monsters” trope and use it wisely. One thing that Daredevil also does extremely well is exploring guilt and doubt about vigilantism. Matt constantly questions if he’s doing what is needed for the city, or if he’s simple satisfying his own savage nature born out of witnessing his father’s death at the hands of criminals in Hell’s Kitchen. This is great. It’s a fantastic theme of inner conflict for him, and it negatively affects his whole life as a result, forcing him to choose between what he thinks is justice and his own friends.
However, season two might have taken it a bit too far.
Matt basically ends up systematically alienating his closest friends and allies in season two because of his ridiculous belief that he needs to cut all ties in order to keep them safe. He plunges Foggy into the worst case imaginable, namely trying to reduce the sentence of known crazy murderer Frank Castle, and then bails on helping with the case because of his private crusade with old flame Elektra. Then when Foggy confronts him about getting himself killed while recklessly running into things headfirst as Daredevil, Matt severs ties with him and refuses to apologize for who he is to the guy who has covered for his ass a dozen times and only chastises him because he doesn’t want him dead. Then Matt receives some rather wise comfort from our resident goddess Claire Temple and he still doesn’t listen to her, and inadvertently causes her to quit her job after he brings her a group of patients who are followed by ruthless ninjas. All of this is on top of the fact that The Punisher thinks Matt is one bad day away from being him, even though Frank is clearly cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs and has barely a spoonful of humanity left.
Matt’s actions don’t feel like he’s trying to protect his friends. It feels like he’s just being a cold-hearted dick to the people who love him, the people who comfort him, the people who try to help him at every turn even when he gets them in trouble. What I don’t like about season two is that Matt can’t see that even if he avoids his friends, that doesn’t mean they just stop caring or worrying over him. It’s much easier to deal with that concern if the object of your concern shows that they acknowledge what you’re going through and still tries to support you somehow. Matt bails on all of them, and I like him less for it even though I get where the show is trying to go.
It is a very fine line to walk with the He Who Fights Monsters trope. I based my second novel around it, in fact, and I’ve had to reap both the benefits and the negatives from that experience. Some readers were extremely frustrated with Jordan, but they understood what she did and supported her anyway. Other readers got too angry and threw in the towel, and that’s fine too. It’s not for everyone. I think Daredevil gambled and lost with this trope. I think Matt tripped and fell into the Unlikable category, and that’s why I caution all writers to examine where you’re going with your character and make sure you don’t push them to the point of not being relatable. This is not to say that I’ll give up on Matt, but his actions made me lose a chunk of respect and affection for him because he was so dickish.
6. Let your characters grow and learn from their mistakes. Matt Murdock might be one of the most stubborn sons of bitches alive. Honestly, from season one and on he really convinces himself that punching the problem in the face is the best way to go. In some respects, yes, it works. All the small time thugs and criminals are apprehended and sent to serve out their sentence. The big wigs are much harder to keep in jail, but eventually, even they get their comeuppance, like with Wilson Fisk.
However, season two falls into the same trap that made me dislike season one somewhat. Matt just keeps doing the exact same thing a hundred times and yet still expects a different result. He runs headfirst into every problem and just assumes he’s tough enough to survive the consequences. One thing that I’ve always liked about Batman, who has a vein of similarities with Daredevil, is that he does understand that there is more to fighting crime than just punching dudes unconscious. He also investigates crimes and foils them before they happen instead of just reacting to everything. He carries gadgets that make life easier. He studied criminology and allegedly every fighting style known to man. He prepared himself as much as possible, and then he went out into the streets of Gotham to help his fellow man. And Matt Murdock, two seasons in, is still just punching dudes.
You have to expand. You have to innovate or at least self-correct with your characters depending on whether you write a stand-alone work or a series. It gets repetitive and frustrating if your hero refuses to see the plain logic in front of him that “this is not working and if I’m going to be an effective [x], I need to change my ways.” It’s natural for our protagonists to fail, and most of the time, it’s necessary for their overall growth. But after they fail, you need to alter them somehow. Show them a new path. Make them realize they screwed up and change their course to a better tomorrow. Otherwise, it can make the reader extremely angry with them and sever the connection you made to begin with. Nobody wants that. We all want to root for someone we care about and relate to, so don’t cut corners by letting them stay static forever.
All that being said, Daredevil is one hell of a show and I am already raring for the next season. Pun fully intended.
Kyo out.