Coriolanus at the Donmar, or Live Theatre an Ocean Away

This week, at 2 p.m. New York time, I saw the Donmar Warehouse’s current production of Coriolanus simultaneously with its London audience at 7 p.m. their time.  The six camera set-up did more than justice to the production for the benefit of those of us who are far from the theatre’s Covent Garden location.  Watching British theatre is fascinating to a U.S. audience as we recognize so many people from British television.  For instance, in coming attractions for a production of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, Una Stubbs (from the Gatiss/Moffat “Sherlock” presently running on PBS) appeared onscreen.  Someone in the New York audience cried out, “Mrs. Hudson!”  And now, back to “live” theatre.

Coriolanus is a difficult play in which we’re hard pressed to actually like any of its characters.  As a preview film reminds us, this is not the Rome of Julius Caesar or even I, Claudius, but long before those settings.  It is primitive, there’s no such thing as Italy but rather a bunch of quarreling tribal territories.  There will be blood.  Rome is governed by the Senate, which is made up for the most part of “patricians,” or upper class and aristocracy.  There are representatives (tribunes) of “plebeians” or commoners.  The primary external enemy of these Romans is the Volsci, or the Volscians.  At any rate, the people of Rome are hungry.  The appropriate distribution of grain is at issue, with the patrician class getting most of it and the plebeian class getting little if any.  The rancor of the plebeians against the upper classes and particularly the outspoken Caius Marcius opens the play. 

The problem is, the audience doesn’t know any of what I just wrote, so the fury of the plebeian class against Caius Marcius seems baseless. 

Bloody Hiddleston conquers Corioles.  Photo credit Johann Persson

The title character, who starts out as Caius Marcius, is an exemplary soldier and leader of men in war.  He also personifies the difficulty of a war hero re-entering civilian life in or out of politics.  That’s on a personal level; Coriolanus also exemplifies a society teetering on the verge between tyranny and anarchy, in an ever-growing class war.  This Coriolanus is directed by Josie Rourke in the compact Donmar Warehouse, with a three quarter stage and a small cast.  Director Rourke stages the play well in the confined space except that the design hasn’t given us clues, even in a slight costume change, when members of her fine company of actors change roles from Roman to Volscian.

Tom Hiddleston grows from Caius Marcius to Coriolanus (an honorary surname based on his leadership in the conquest of Corioles) and back to a Caius Marcius we hadn’t previously met.  Mr. Hiddleston emphasizes the human weakness in the man and wins us to his side no matter how close to fascism he steps.  We see him bloody, watch him shower it off, and so see his wounds that he is unwilling to show the plebeians to get their sympathy or votes.  This Coriolanus is staged to empathize with this individual man.  And then he opens his mouth in anger and contempt and turns most people against him.  He is undisciplined at best.  Hiddleston is a hurricane strength force on that stage.

Deborah Findlay as Volumnia.  Photo by Johann Persson

Deborah Findlay as his mother is a powerful and smug Volumnia, able to rule much of the Senate from her living room, but also able to humble herself by the end when Rome needs her to.  Birgitte Hjort Sǿrensen as Virgilia was full of emotion and cried a lot, but to be fair the script doesn’t give her much to say. 

Mark Gatiss as Menenius. Photo Credit Johann Persson

Peter DeJersey was noble and likeable as the general Cominius, powerful in his glory days, then broken after the banished Coriolanus’ rejection of him.  Alfred Enoch was a strong, warm and clear Titus Lartius.  Mark Gatiss made for a highly intellectual and warm Menenius.  His belief in his own superiority aside, his fatherly feelings for Coriolanus and friendship with the family are as real as his attempts to negotiate a peace between the plebeians and Coriolanus.  His heartbreak at his rejection by Coriolanus is shattering.

Alfred Enoch as Titus Lartius.  Photo Credit: Johann Perssons

The plebeian tribunes, Sicinia (Helen Schlesinger) and Brutus (Elliot Levey) are truly vicious and as smug as Volumnia.  They set us up to think as little as possible of the plebeian class — a.k.a. “us” — since they are as manipulative of the plebeians as the patrician class is dismissive of them.  What reads as overreaction to what has not been seen makes the plebeians seem ignorant and hateful.  Helen Schlesinger’s performance as tribune for the plebeians was so fine that I utterly despised her.

Director Rourke spoke at the interval (British for intermission) about the youth of this Coriolanus, which really does help make his behavior more understandable, even forgivable, if not acceptable.  The audience is not siding with Coriolanus just because Tom Hiddleston is so attractive.  The plebeians are portrayed as weak, malleable, and consequently untrustworthy.  Their grievances are not clearly aired, just the word “grain” tossed about without explanation — perhaps the audience is expected to know.  Or perhaps in Shakespeare’s time there was a similar enough situation in England for the audience to know the Commoners’ grievances without having them spelled out. 

Hadley Fraser as Aufidius and Tom Hiddleston as Coriolanus.  Photo Credit Johann Persson

The play’s love/hate relationship is between warriors, brothers under the skin.  Aufidius, the Volsci commander played by Hadley Fraser, is the Volscian enemy of Rome (as opposed to the Roman enemies of Rome already mentioned), loving and hating Coriolanus. He’s overtly emotional, practically weepy when the banished Coriolanus comes to join with him, and decidedly sad when he orders Coriolanus’ death.  Mark Stanley plays several roles but shines as Aufidius’ second in command. 

Coriolanus vs. Aufidius.  Photo Credit Johann Persson

The evening’s performance was engrossing, active, and intimate.  Fight direction by Richard Ryan was tightly staged and frightening. 

As Rome betrayed Coriolanus by banishing him, he, like the ill-tempered child he is, betrays Rome in turn.  While he is stone-hearted to his former general Cominius and even his father figure Menenius, the pleas of his mother, wife, and son turn him from his vengeance, which of course determines his own fate.  When the end comes it is swift and shocking.

I enjoyed this production — the staging, the design, the lighting, and all the actors — but it seems to have brought out the inherent weakness of the play:  the assumption that the audience knows the preface to the story when the play begins.  Nevertheless, if a re-broadcast shows up in a venue near you, I recommend you take advantage of the opportunity.  Even on film, good live theatre is too exhilarating to allow to pass by.  Check out the National Theatre Live site to see if there’s a venue in your tribal territory:  http://ntlive.nationaltheatre.org.uk/

~ Molly Matera, signing off to read some ancient history.

Whedon Rules a Panoply of Superheroes

I had a wonderful time at the movies this weekend, watching Marvel’s The Avengers in a packed house.  Joss Whedon writes witty stuff and did not leave that talent behind for the screenplay for this long-awaited mega superheroes film.  The script is fine-tuned, detailed, well structured, exciting, and funny. Add to that Whedon’s other skill — he directs clearly, lovingly, giving his actors scope and allowing them to spread their wings – or whatever they have – to fly.  He tells the story, tossing bombs and reptilian or crustacean-like creatures as needed.

So what’s this movie about?  Super heroes who don’t play well with others will do when push comes to shove from external critters.  There’s such a fine line between fine lines and spoilers that I’m just going to make a list of the top-of-the-Hollywood Hills performances in this fun film:

The Avengers (c) 2012 Marvel

Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man is charming, witty, vain.  Downey brings a cool intelligence to Tony Stark and has a subtle but clear revelatory moment toward the end that is just part of the plot here, when he recognizes a link between himself and Loki.  Downey does it well, Whedon wrote it well, it’s a collaborative art.

Evans and Downey as Captain America and Tony Stark.  (c) 2012 Marvel.

Chris Evans as Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, is as realistically sweet, naïve, and powerful as we expect from his film last summer.  Don’t be fooled by his goodness, though – he’s tough as nails, confident, and insists on doing the right thing.

Mark Ruffalo as Bruce Banner, a.k.a. The Hulk, has created a quietly intense Bruce Banner and a damned funny Hulk – or, as Banner refers to him, “The Other Guy.”  He gets some massive laughs in this film, and deserves every one of them – as do the CGI artists.  Mark Ruffalo is the best Bruce Banner/Hulk ever.

Chris Hemsworth as Thor, a.k.a. Son of Odin, Demi-God.  He fell from grace out of Asgard, but came back to Earth to help the planet under his protection.  There’s an ‘aw shucks’ quality to Hemsworth that lends warmth to a character even more arrogant than Tony Stark.

Scarlett Johansson as Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. The Black Widow, does fine work here.  Not surprisingly in a Joss Whedon script, she has lots to do showing Natasha’s physical and intellectual strengths.  And quite a lot of heart.  

Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow

Jeremy Renner as Clint Barton (never called that), always known as Hawkeye. Hawkeye’s a tough guy and Renner gets to do his dark and light sides, strength and pain, and I only wish he’d been onscreen more.

Clark Gregg as Agent Phil Coulson, dapper and neat, is disarmingly important.  His arrival invariably presages trouble despite his total calm and confidence. 

Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury, a.k.a. the Boss a.k.a. Director of SHIELD.  He’s basically the CEO who reports to a higher power, the World Council, who appear as shadowy faces on computer screens.  They are desk jockeys who don’t get it.  Fury manipulates, he drives, he puts people together and watches the explosions.

Tom Hiddleston as Loki, a.k.a. adopted son of Odin, Demi-God.  Despite the fact that Loki’s demigod outfit kept making me laugh, he is a dastardly and very cool villain.  He so enjoys being bad, it’s a delight to watch.  He revels in his mischief, and the angle of the shots of his grinning face are brilliantly composed.

Stellan Skarsgård as Professor Erik Selvig, is almost a cipher here, which is pretty odd, considering Skarsgård’s skills and what happens to Selvig in this story.  It’s a mystery.

Cobie Smulders as Agent Maria Hill, a.k.a. regular human.  Smulders smoulders, obeys orders, questions privately.  A mere human who’s tough and smart, the way Whedon likes his women.

Of the thousands of people listed who contributed to this film, I’ll single out only two more:  Cinematography by Seamus McGarvey was gorgeous, brisk, bright, gloomy, everything it needed to be.  Film Editing by Jeffrey Ford and Lisa Lassek (uh oh, more than two already) was razor sharp, contributing to perfect pacing.  Oh and the production design by James Chinlund was beyond cool, phantasmagorical, lyrical, and overwhelming.  Suffice to say, this film has been put together extremely well, so much more than I could have hoped or expected.

Whedon Rules.

Is it necessary to have seen Thor, Iron Man and Iron Man 2 and Captain America: The First Avenger to get this film?  Tough to tell, since I’ve seen all of them, but I think Whedon lays it out clearly and coherently in reasonably chronological order.

-         Immediate situation:  Fantastic secret complex invaded, people killed, people kidnapped, who’re you gonna call?

-         Establish who’s needed so that, one by one by one, Nick Fury’s people gather — and introduce — the superheroes, odd ducks, and outcasts who will comprise his team of Avengers.

-         What do you need in an action adventure movie?  Fast-paced coherent action; colorful, interesting, funny, sexy characters; things that go boom; things that slither; laughs; moments of quiet reflection (well, most action adventure movies don’t have this, and don’t really need it, so The Avengers gets Extra Credit for sneaking them in); more laughs, more explosions, flying things….  The beat goes on.  The Avengers has it all.

Actors leave their egos at home so their alter egos can do battle on the screen.  What do you get when you put a couple geniuses, an old-fashioned boy chemically engineered to be a superhero, and a demi god into a room together?  Fireworks.  Violence.  Broken furniture.  Does Black Widow tell the guys what’s what?  Of course she does.  Do they listen?  What fun would that be? 

If there’s a flaw to The Avengers, it’s the embarrassment of endings, a common feature in continuing sagas advertising their sequels in the last reel.  What appears to be the final shot is directly connected to Tony Stark’s revelatory moment, and is enough to say there’s more to come.  Then, in the way of such franchises, a whole new scene is included to tell you that. 

I can tell you that I cannot wait.

In closing, I repeat my advice to film audiences to show respect and courtesy to the thousands of people it takes to make a film, otherwise they may miss out on stuff after the credits.  The final bit of film in The Avengers is heartfelt and hilarious at the same time, and garnered applause from those hearty few of us left in the theatre to enjoy it.  Wait for it.

~ Molly Matera, signing off, but not logging off — now I can watch all the videos online about this delightful entertainment….

Ah, To Be In Paris at Midnight

How generous is Woody Allen!  The filmmaker gives us Paris, romantic street scenes in the sun, in rain, at twilight, into Parisian evenings.  He doesn’t rush.  He envelopes us in Paris, wraps us in the flowing shawls of her cafes, her cobblestones, her great edifices, her odd conjunctions of ancient and modern, lights on the Seine, the Paris of dreams. Allen knows quite well that his audience is full of hopeless romantics who wish that the Paris he offers was real.  Absurd imaginings of fantastical and fanciful artistic life in Paris, this is his promise. 

Having conditioned his audience to be in love with Paris in the springtime, the title “Midnight in Paris” flashes on the screen.  As always, Woody Allen directs his own screenplay with precision and freedom, creating his best film in years.  We meet Mr. Allen’s traditional alter ego, this time in the person of ...a writer.  Owen Wilson is his avatar, if you will, a screenwriter who wishes to be a novelist à la F. Scott Fitzgerald (one cannot imagine him as a Hemingway), stumbling through pre-marital rites with a spoiled fiancée and her right-wing parents.  Ah, to be rich in Paris in the springtime.  Well, not necessarily.  They weren’t having any fun.

Owen Wilson has Woody Allen down pat without merely imitating him – he has drunk Allen’s rhythms in, he inhabits the exemplary soundtrack, he is a nebbish via Hollywood, who somehow speaks in a California twangy drawl with Woody Allen’s inflections and timing.  Physically, you might think Woody played the scene and said to Wilson “Do it like this,” except that Wilson has absolutely made this guy his own.  All of it works. 

Wilson’s Gil Pender is a successful screenwriter for some reason engaged to a mercenary little rich girl named Inez, who is brilliantly embodied by Rachel McAdams.  I wouldn’t have seen McAdams in this role but she’s so on, pitch perfect with her pauses and her takes. Her disrespectful control of her father and fiancé are lazily flawless. 

As McAdam’s rich Republican father, Kurt Fuller is constantly agitated in a low-key way, his dark circled eyes always sad even when he’s excited.  The man never learned to live and would prefer the world suffered as he does.  Fuller is fantastic.  His equally mean-spirited wife, whose disdain for future son-in-law Gil she doesn’t even attempt to hide, is acerbically well played by Mimi Kennedy.  You just know McAdam’s Inez is going to grow up to be her mother, sharing their rolling eyes and manner of manipulating their men.

Inez’s pedantic friend Paul is smarmily played by Michael Sheen, his eager and adoring wife by Nina Arianda.  The threesome of Carol, Paul, and Inez is so antithetical to Gil that he can barely breathe when they’re onscreen together.  He’s not allowed.

There is an escape.  It is not explained.  It needs no explanation any more than Jeff Daniels stepping off the screen in “The Purple Rose of Cairo” needed an explanation.  Explanations are for science fiction; “Midnight in Paris” dips and tangos into fantasy.  Walking the streets of Paris in the night, a little drunk, a little lost, as a church bell tolls midnight, Gil is picked up by the most beautiful cab you ever saw, a 1920 Peugeot Landaulet. It is yellow, it is shiny, it is driven by an impeccable chauffeur, and exquisitely dressed drunken people happily drag Gil in to their cab, their lives, and their decade. 

Paris in the Twenties.  What American who writes anything and doubtless majored in literature doesn’t dream of stepping into a shiny Parisian night in the 1920s.  Gil meets Scott and Zelda – yes, that Scott and Zelda -- who introduce him to just everyone.  Tom Hiddleston steps up, charming, loving, embodying a dreamy, untroubled version of F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Alison Pill’s little round face is so petulantly Zelda, she’s marvelous.  With Cole Porter at the piano, these partying people don’t sound like they’re drunk, they are all still clever and witty and look swell.  Then there’s Hemingway, quietly hilarious as played by Corey Stoll, who brings Gil along to meet Gertrude Stein, utterly believably played by Kathy Bates.  These two icons of Paris in the Twenties become Gil’s friends and literary mentors.  Quite a dream world.

We come upon Ms. Stein critiquing a painting by Picasso to Picasso, claiming it does not in fact capture this lovely woman leaning in the doorway -- Adriana as embodied by Marion Cotillard.  She is perfection, with shapely legs below her flapper dress, her soft face and the most amazing eyes.  They’re not more beautiful than anyone else’s eyes, but they are dark and stormy, starry, reflective of her every feeling and thought, from curiosity to hurt to disappointment to determination.  Unlike many films in which all the men are stumbling over each other for some charisma free mannequin , it is perfectly clear why Cotillard’s Adriana draws all eyes, downright sensible that everyone wishes to hear her speak or watch her listen as he speaks.  She is the muse of great painters of the time, and perhaps, just perhaps, she might be Gil’s.  Paris in the Twenties is her time, the fantasy of Gil.  Her idea of the perfect Paris, though, is the Belle Epoque.  The fantasy dances on. 

In the present in daylight, Léa Seydoux as Gabrielle sells memorabilia in an open-air market, rather like the protagonist of Gil’s novel-in-progress, who runs a “nostalgia shop.”  Their chats about Cole Porter show her to be much more compatible with Gil than Inez.  Carla Bruni is equally charming as a museum tour guide who recognizes Paul’s pedantry, which earns a guffaw from the audience.  This is Paris, and possibilities abound.

All of the casting is unerring, Mr. Allen’s direction so true, that everyone might be ad-libbing, but we all know they’re not.  This is a symphony, and everyone is sounding the right notes at the right time and achieving Mr. Allen’s goals.  This is not another treatise on death and misery.  “Midnight in Paris” is a celebration, a diversion into another time that seems golden only in hindsight.

Note:  While not a chick flick, this isn’t your typical guy’s summer movie either.  There are no car chases, although there is one very classy classic car.  There are no gunfights, although war and shooting things are discussed in passing.  There’s lots of drinking but no sex, the beautiful women are smartly dressed, and nobody but nobody in this film is in a hurry.  So if you need quick cuts, fast cars, semi-naked bimbettes, loud noises and ignorant characters, this movie is not for you.  If, however, you might enjoy a romantic evening’s entertainment with charming and amusing characters, beautiful scenery, chilly air conditioning and, as we have come to expect in a Woody Allen film, a superb soundtrack, stroll on over -- through a light rain -- to your local cinema and revive in Woody Allen’s Paris.

~ Molly Matera, signing off for cocktails on the back patio and some cleverly mellow Cole Porter.

Thor, F.K.A. God of Thunder

As a child, I was a fan of Marvel Comics’ “Thor” series.  I beg my dear friends who memorized every frame of every comic to forgive me – I don’t actually remember them at all now. What I clearly recall is that, like some other good comics, “Thor” led me back to its source, and I added Norse mythology to my reading of Greek, Roman, and eventually Native American mythologies.  Not to mention folk and fairy tales.  My favorite characters were often tricksters, fellows -- or sometimes critters -- who, whether evil or just a little bit bad, live by their wits and are oftentimes witty. Tom Hiddleston makes his superheroes debut as Thor’s “brother” Loki, the trickster of Norse mythology.  Hiddleston is terrific, his narrow face alternately a mask of serious contemplation and one of wicked delight.  He holds his own with the powerful Anthony Hopkins as Odin and the brash lead, Chris Hemsworth, as Thor.

My friend Horvendile wrote in his review of this film that he believed director Kenneth Branagh whispered in his actors’ ears that this was really Shakespeare -- http://matthewslikelystory.blogspot.com/2011/05/you-will-believe-god-can-make-breakfast.html.  This may be true.  Not that it’s Shakespeare, but that Branagh and most of his actors (those in Asgard, at least!) gave every character and every word the weight of serious storytelling, and therefore much of this tale works.  The effects don’t particularly work -- one or two images involving the magnificent Idris Elba as Heimdall were awesome and memorable, but mostly not so much. 

Chris Hemsworth does well by the arrogant fool Thor – that is, Thor the son of a king, a ‘god’ to mere mortals who has unfortunately not yet been defeated and is therefore obnoxious in a comic book way.  While he’s no Robert Downey, Jr., Hemsworth plays Thor’s humiliation convincingly.  He’s a bit over the top as a god, but that is a nice contrast to Hiddleston’s low-key Loki and Hopkins’ discreet Odin.  The real power lies, of course, with the quiet old man whose words or tears can bring a magical object to life. 

Visually, Asgard, home of Odin, Thor, et.al., may be accurate to the comic, but does not convey the Asgard of my imagination from reading Norse mythology.  It just never seemed to me so shiny.  Of course, this film is based on the comics, so don’t crack open your mythology books.  In any case, the scenes in the upper realms are undeniably gorgeous, breathtaking, and fanciful. The concept of the bridge of the nine realms as a wormhole was fun, but the visuals didn’t move me as much as I would have anticipated.  

In general I found the fighting and battle scenes a bit choppy, special effects taking precedence over following what was going on, so I was not engaged in those sections.  Thor’s closest allies are not adequately introduced – I suspect the filmmakers assumed everyone who came to the movie would know who they were.  They popped up to offer analysis or to bump the plot forward but left no lasting impression.   

The cast is heavily weighted to residents of Asgard, with a few interesting humans:

  Chris Hemsworth is comic book broad as Thor the son of Odin, funny on occasion, a brash bully at other times.  Once in New Mexico, he has some really nice moments, some dull moments, some funny moments.  I didn't even recognize Hemsworth as George Kirk, father of the new Jim Kirk in the new “Star Trek,” despite my many viewings of that film.  He does good work in "Thor," worth watching as he grows.

  Tom Hiddleston is an utter delight, subdued and clever as the nice to naughty to villainous Loki. 

  Anthony Hopkins reigns as Odin, every inch a king, perhaps as wild as Thor in his youth, but wiser and kinder with age and experience.

  Idris Elba is gorgeous as Heimdall, majestic, all-hearing and all-seeing with his golden eyes.

  Colm Feore is as intriguing as ever as King Laufey, commanding, compelling, and contrarily vulnerable as the King of the “Frost Giants.”  Yes, the name is silly, but take one look at these guys, and they’re dangerous, not silly; nor are they monsters.  They are citizens of a conquered realm, and I found myself, just for a moment, rooting for them when the boastful bully Thor went against his father’s orders and made war with the ancient enemy. The frozen guys are worthy villains, big and angry and scary. 

  Rene Russo is classy as Frigga, wife of Odin, mother of Thor, quite believable.   

  Natalie Portman as Jane Foster, allegedly human, allegedly a scientist.  Don’t make me laugh. 

  Stellan Skarsgård is decidedly human as Professor Erik Selvig, scientist, friend and father figure to Jane Foster. 

  Kat Dennings is absolutely human as Darcy Lewis, the unscientific research assistant with the better lines. In a clear counterpoint to Ms. Portman, she’s cute and sassy.

  Clark Gregg is deceptively strong as the human, man-in-black, Agent Coulson.  He links the elements of the franchise together, and his appearance in the story made me sit up and say, ooh, what’re they up to now.

On planet Earth, the New Mexico scenes are dusty and entertaining, particularly when Skarsgård and Hemsworth go out drinking.  Guess who wins.  Thor the fallen “God of Thunder” in a desert town is out of place, and that’s always fun to watch.  Building the broader story and franchise, Agent Coulson from the “Iron Man” films shows up in the desert in his black suit raiding the headquarters of the “scientists” who found the fallen Thor.  Under Coulson’s leadership, a cool government-type complex is built around Thor’s hammer overnight, proving that S.H.I.E.L.D. is not a government agency at all.

While not a religious person, twice I was struck by certain overtones – first when Thor is cast out.  He is not merely sent to go learn his lesson; nor is this a vision quest.  He is cast out of Asgard, a realm seemingly high above the Earth, so it’s rather like …an angel being cast out of heaven by his father.  Stripped of his powers, unable to pull the sword – ahem, I mean hammer – from the stone, and beaten by the power of S.H.I.E.L.D. (those “men in black” who seem to be bad guys to the uninitiated), Thor cries out in agony, wordless, but in my mind I heard “Father, why have you forsaken me?” 

Yes, “Thor” has its moments.  It is more than a building block in the franchise, yet it’s not quite complete in itself, making it a bit of a tease (particularly in the all-too-brief appearance by Jeremy Renner).  There were some delightful moments and good scenes in this movie, but though some may be drawn to its effects, I don’t think that’s what director Branagh was focused on.  With the exception of Ms. Portman, I think Mr. Branagh was having fun with his actors, testing them, teasing them, giving them full rein, then pulling them in at precisely the right moments.  Ms. Portman has an interesting mask of a face, but is totally unbelievable and out of place here, so I choose to believe Mr. Branagh was stuck with her. 

In terms of the screenplay, I can only recall a single line of this film – it was delivered by Jeremy Renner, simply, sincerely.  Listen for it.  What I vividly recall are the faces – Hopkins, Hiddleston, Hemsworth, Elba, Feore – and the emotions behind them.  The story moves briskly, attention does not flag, so Mr. Branagh and the many screenwriters (Ashley Miller, Zack Stentz, and Don Payne, based on a story by J. Michael Straczynski and Mark Protosevich, and of course all of this based on the comic books by Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, and Jack Kirby) have manipulated the words and the frames and the characters pretty darn well.

This is one of those movies that rewards viewers who watch the whole thing.  If you don’t respect the thousands of people it takes to make a movie enough to sit through the closing credits, you’re going to miss a delightful scene.  Nyah nyah. I laughed with pleasure as I stood alone in the theatre, enjoying the promise of things to come.  “Thor” is not up to the (unattainable?) level of the first “Iron Man,” but it is good summer fun.  Go on and sit in a cold auditorium for a couple hours.

~ Molly Matera, turning off the computer but not the light.  I need that to re-read some mythology….