Whilst I am an avowed Marvel girl from way back, and am therefore passing familiar with the comic version of Thor, I must confess to only quite recently assaying his very own title. He, much like Hulk and Captain America, had never really won me over; I’d always appreciated the variety they brought to the ever-more-ridiculous Marvel universe, but never really hungered for more of their individual stories -- or backstories.

But then, in 2007, Babylon 5 genius J. Michael Straczynski took the Asgardian’s helm (and, indeed, helmet) firmly in hand, and I started to pay attention… fast. Coming back during the imprint-wide Civil War, Thor quickly made me happy by taking out the irritating shadow of himself that Tony Stark had become, and went on to establish a new home for his people in, of all places, Oklahoma. We met some new characters, re-met some old ones and they all did stuff while Thor generally went about the place being godly and handsome; it was all pretty slow going and I hardly found in him a new comic crush (to add to Daredevil, Deadpool and -- ahem -- Black Widow), but loyalty decreed that I stick with Thor for Straczynski’s run of seventeen issues… then there was this awesome arc with his sneaky brother Loki… and all of a sudden I found that I was actually looking forward to the much-hyped, long-heralded Kenneth Branagh adaptation of Thor’s four color adventures.

Man, what a waste of anticipation I could have better expended on The Avengers. (Or, even, Captain America. Green Lantern, maybe? See what this movie has done? It's made me look forward to DC movies!)

I should make it clear, here, that I went into this movie desperate to like it. I had heard bad reports -- one, in particular, that just said this: “Is Anthony Hopkins broke? That’s the only explanation.” -- and I was utterly determined to find something, anything, that would make this latest Marvel production about more than just this. (Although, considering some of Hopkins’s more bizarre movie choices -- Alexander, Beowulf, The Wolfman -- I have often wondered the same thing.) But it was not to be. Thor is an utter mess from beginning to pseudo-end; it is over-wrought, overlong and holds an over-inflated sense of its own importance.

I am now so over Thor.

Look, Chris Hemsworth, the Australian soap star who came from obscurity to snag the titular role, is perfectly serviceable -- and suitably buff -- as the Thunder God. You can’t expect him to have the presence of a Hugh Jackman or a Robert Downey Jr., and he doesn’t, but he does an excellent job all told, making Thor perhaps less bombastic than I would have expected, but that is in no way a bad thing. Natalie Portman sure is pretty, but here continues her run of perplexingly poor performances, which she artfully mixes up with the occasional good one (Where the Heart Is: awesome; Star Wars: dreadful; Black Swan: awesome; Your Highness, dreadful), and Anthony Hopkins… okay, seriously, is he broke? Is that why he took this role? And what was up with Kenneth Branagh allowing Hopkins to chew up all the scenery until I’m surprised anything was left standing? (Thank Asgard for CGI.) Surely such an accomplished director of all things Shakespearean -- plus, y’know, Frankenstein -- would know how to better reign in such histrionics?

So, our story, for those who may be unaware: spoilt little rich god Thor angers his omnipotent father and is cast out and cut off (it’s all very Arthur) until he can find the goodness within and stop accidentally-on-purpose starting wars with Frost Giants. Exiled to Earth and powerless, Thor happens to meet up with a group of scientists, one of whom runs him over with his car (making it all a bit Hop, too -- is Russell Brand not ubiquitous enough without his works also being natural allegories for this movie?), and thence plots to retrieve his lost celestial hammer Mjollnir (recovered by agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. at the very end of Iron Man 2, and guarded zealously by deadpan Agent Coulter -- the always-awesome Clark Gregg) so that he can return to Asgard and kick the ass of usurping usurper Loki (Tom Hiddleton), who of course is making mischief, what with being the god of mischief and all.

One of my main issues with Thor is purely in the size of the cast; there are millions of them, and even as a long time comic lover who can give you extensive family trees and who-dated-whom stats on several different Marvel timelines and parallel universes, I still found myself more than a little at sea. It was terrific to see Kat Dennings (for all five minutes of her substantive screen time) in very funny form as Portman’s friend Darcy, and was that Kyle XY’s Jaime Alexander I recognized as the unfortunately-named Asgardian, Sif? Did I note Punisher: War Zone’s Ray Stevenson pulling a Chris Evans and splitting his Marvel persona to play Volstagg? Was that Renee Russo as Thor’s long-suffering Mom? Not to mention (except that this is the second time I have done so) the fascinating Clark Gregg as Coulton, about whom surely we all want to know a little bit more? I hardly know now if I dreamed their presence or if they were actually there, it all went by in such a blur.

Aside from the question as to Anthony Hopkins’s financial status, another thing I’d heard about Thor was that his Earth-based redemption of spirit, in which he learns humility, falls in love with Natalie Portman and is therefore worthy to reclaim his hammer and defend his home, seemed to take place over a period of a long weekend. I’d beg to differ: to me, it felt more like it was happening in real time, as though Branagh was channeling 24, and somewhere there should have been a ticking clock striking off the seconds and minutes as love bloomed and arrogance was tempered. But then, after our brief primer to the eternal conflict holding true in the cosmos; after our brief introduction to smooth-talking Loki and the dull-witted Thor; after our brief family squabble and even briefer fall from grace, how could we have expected anything other than a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it romance carried out between two chance-met traffic accident statistics?

The final act of the film is pure flash and flummery; the 3D is at times spectacular but the effects themselves are just as frequently banal (a notable exception being almost everything in Asgard; that rainbow bridge is simply awe-inspiring) and the score is nothing short of teeth-grindingly awful. I only stuck it out to get to the by-now-expected Marvel movie epilogue, which I will not spoil for you but needless to say has me more than a little intrigued about the next Marvel movie release, July’s Captain America.

As I said, Cap hasn’t ever really been my bag (although I am rather partial to his sidekick and biggest fan, Hawkeye), so the idea of his filmic adventures has never really lit my fire. But now, under the crushing weight of disappointment I feel in the mixed up mishmash of mediocrity that is Thor, I find myself looking at Chris Evans’s forthcoming star vehicle with something approaching gusto.

I mean, how much worse can it possibly be?

   -- Rachel Hyland