#i am capable of speaking well of steven moffat

[terranceholdsapencil]

I love tumblr because usually this thing is one big moffat hating machine. But then he drops one (1) episode and immediately all of doctor who tumblr goes "i missed steven moffat. I love steven moffat. I have never ushered a bad word about steven moffat in my life. I want to have drinks with steven moffat. Im so glad steven moffat is back" and honestly? Fair.

[timeagainreviews]

The Chibnall Masterplan

Back in 2018 when the episode "The Ghost Monument," aired, we got our first mention of "The Timeless Child," as uttered by bog rolls floating above the Doctor’s head. My initial reaction to this was dread. In fact, I can even quote my reaction from the review I wrote- "I’ll be honest, I have zero interest in that storyline. It’s called Doctor Who, not Doctor Who was Once a Little Kid Known as the Timeless Child." I got all of that from a single line of seemingly throwaway dialogue. Two years later, it would appear that my first guess was the truth. It turns out that when the Master said "Everything you think you know is a lie," was a lie. Evidently, I knew all along.

If you follow this blog closely, you’ll know that my reaction to the Timeless Child storyline has softened over time. I went from not giving a damn, to being fairly excited. That is until last week’s episode sent me spiralling back into that initial sense of dread. Sadly, this is the energy I brought into tonight’s episode. As opposed to bracing for excitement, I was bracing for disappointment. This is unfortunate as I always try and temper my expectations. I, like the rest of you, would love to be surprised. Even if I am worried about the trajectory of an episode, I always try and keep an open mind. After all, Doctor Who is pretty great.

After last week’s episode, I expected this one to be jam-packed with exposition. Oddly though, this one suffered from its own heaping dose of fluff as well. Once again, the companions spend most of their time on the sidelines. Right away they kill off that Rose Tyler looking girl, so I guess she wasn’t important. Which is a lot of how the episode treats our human characters. We’re given a scene wherein Yaz and Graham have a heart to heart, leading us to believe one of them may be departing at the end of the episode. However, this expectation is subverted by instead having nothing happen. Like last week, Chibnall has opted toward writing hollow character development in place of plot. Because of this, the scenes with the companions felt more like distractions from the actual story.

We get more of this when Ryan, Ethan, and Ko Sharmus are fighting off Cybermen with the power of busywork. Ryan’s attitude toward weapons has shifted since "The Ghost Monument." His interaction with the Doctor has turned him into a bit of a pacifist. Much like Chibnall’s writing, Ko Sharmus muddies this philosophy for Ryan by convincing him to take up arms against the Cybermen. I expected this to play into Yaz and Graham’s conversation, which felt like a foreshadowing of death. Ryan might shoot one of them as they are dressed in their Cybermen disguises, leading him to regret breaking his pacifism. But none of that happens. While it would have been a bit cliched and overly dark to do such a thing, at least it would have been something.

The Master takes the Doctor into the portal to Gallifrey where they stand within the Time Lord citadel. The Master traps the Doctor in a device which may as well be named the Agency Stripper™, as that’s what it, and this episode does to her throughout most of its run. Using the Time Lord Matrix, he illustrates the story of the Time Lord’s origins. All the while in the real world, he invites Ashad, the Lone Cyberman to set up shop on Gallifrey.

The Master tells the Doctor the story about a Shobogan scientist named Tecteun. She was the first of her kind to achieve space flight, which is incredible when you consider the thousands of people that were necessary just to get humans to the moon. During her travels through space, she discovers an odd gateway containing a little girl. She takes this girl home and raises her as her own. During a freak accident, much like Brendan from last week, she falls off a cliff. Damn kids, always playing by rocky cliffsides. However, instead of dying, she regenerates.

Tecteun goes a bit mad scientist trying to unlock the secrets behind regeneration, leading her to do experiments on this timeless child. She even appears to force regenerations on her as well. Eventually, she unlocks the secret of regenerations and successfully uses it on herself. This establishes what would become Time Lord society. At this point, we’re now waiting for the Master to tell the Doctor exactly what we all know- that the Timeless Child is the Doctor. However, there was a moment when it almost seemed like the Master was going to say he was the Timeless Child, which honestly, I would have found far more compelling. It would have informed so much of the Master’s past actions, and his recent relapse in character development after Missy’s change of hearts.

Instead, I found myself rolling my eyes at this "big reveal." It really was that simple. The story I wrote in my head after a single line of dialogue is exactly what we got. We learn that the number of regenerations was placed upon future Time Lords, which is weird because Clara had to plead for the Time Lords to give the Eleventh Doctor more. I guess along with unlocking the secret to the Timeless Child’s regenerations, they were also able to limit their number. That or Chibnall didn’t even think about it.

When considering the wanton destruction of Gallifrey by the Master’s hand, you suspect whatever it was the Time Lords did to this child was heinous. And while, yes, forcing regenerations upon the kid is a bit cruel, they always looked serene (see: bored) while sitting there in Tecteun’s lab. I expected it to be something like Rassilon and Omega destroyed a child to harness her time travelling ability to create the first TARDIS. Turns out, that the thing that really pissed off the Master was knowing that he had a little bit of the Doctor inside of him. While the Master has always been a bit of a maniac, even this felt like a bit excessive.

Back on the Cybership, the humans have stowed themselves away in Cyberman armour. I rather liked this bit as it reminded me of the very first Dalek story where Ian hides away inside a Dalek carapace. While I feel like they could have done more with this, at least they were having a bit of fun. After saving Ryan, Ethan, and Ko Sharmus from the Cybermen, the humans make their way into the portal to Gallifrey. The Cybermen land above the Time Lord citadel where they hover above, ready to make Gallifrey their new home.

The Master does the Doctor dirty and leaves her inside the Matrix to fend for herself, while he goes off to broker a deal with Ashad. We find out that Ashad, with the guidance of the Cyberium coursing through his mind, has created a death particle capable of undoing all organic life in the universe. His big plan is to basically turn the Cybermen into robots, which much like the Master, I found boring. Thankfully the Master is always up to his dirty tricks as he kills Ashad and uses the Cyberium to create a race of Cyberman/Time Lords known as Cyber-Masters. I was a bit disappointed they weren’t called Cyber Lords. However, I suppose the Master naming them after himself is on-brand at least. After all, he did once make an entire planet’s population into himself.

The Doctor is now forced to deal with the new information she’s been given by the Master. She rejects it at first, but the imagery of Brendan in her mind keeps giving her cause to doubt. It’s then that she sees the Ruth Doctor who helps her through her identity crisis long enough to help her escape the Matrix. Her plan to escape is to basically run through every life in her mind until it shorts out and forces the Matrix to release her. This entire sequence is rather silly when you consider the Matrix holds the entire lives of countless other Time Lords. No matter how many lives she had before the First Doctor, it’s not more than the Matrix can handle. What’s even sillier is the way in which they shot it, which was basically by having Jodie Whittaker squeeze her eyes shut and wince while holding her head. I was reminded of hacking scenes in movies where they throw a montage of symbols over the scene to make up for the fact that we’re basically watching some guy on a computer.

The montage is what is really worth mentioning, as it touched upon quite a few things from the Doctor’s past. Some of these things have been mysteries from as far back as the Tom Baker era. I’m speaking of course about the Morbius Doctors. For those of you not in the know, the Morbius Doctors were a series of images projected from the Doctor’s mind during a battle of wits between the Fourth Doctor and an evil Time Lord named Morbius. I had always assumed they were Morbius’ previous regenerations, but many have speculated that they were versions of the Doctor from before William Hartnell. Well, it would appear that this age-old debate can now be put to rest- those were definitely images of the Doctor.

I’d be lying if the nerd in me doesn’t kind of love this. Like I said, I try and keep an open mind. It’s even easier when the concept of Doctors existing before the First Doctor has been around for rather a long time. Andrew Cartmel’s "masterplan," was to introduce the idea of "the Other," which would be a Time Lord on par with Rassilon and Omega that was eventually "cloned," in a  genetic loom into the First Doctor. However, the idea was paired back as it was decided the doing such a thing would reveal too much about the Doctor’s past, thus answering too much of the show’s central question- "Doctor Who?"

Was it too much? That’s really hard for me to say at this point. It’s a bit early to know for sure. It does certainly complicate things a bit. To paraphrase something Andrew Cartmel once said at a public appearance- these story elements are like barnacles on a ship. Each one of them attaches to the hull over time. They seem small at first, but they eventually begin to slow the ship down. Take the aforementioned regeneration limitation placed upon Time Lords back in 1976’s "The Deadly Assassin." While it worked for the story at the time, it gave Steven Moffat the unruly task of finding new ways for the Doctor to keep on regenerating. You’ll forgive the guy for not doing the Valeyard.

While the nerd in me does love that they touched upon some deep Doctor Who lore, part of me was also lamenting the introduction of so many new versions of the Doctor. I’ve got a special love for each incarnation of the Doctor. This is why I love the Eighth Doctor audios so much, as it gives us an even deeper understanding of his character, despite his limited screentime. Even the War Doctor was given the chance to develop. Where will the Ruth Doctor play into all of this? Why did she have a police box if she is pre-Hartnell? Is this “Division,” an actual division of the Timeless Child into multiple entities? Will we get to experience her Doctor in a deeper way that feels as fulfilling as the first Doctor of colour deserves? While I hold out some hope for her, what about the montage of children in Tecteun’s lab? Are we going to get comics and Big Finish audios starring some kid you saw for two seconds? (I kid, you know they will) On one hand, we see the first Asian Doctor, on the other hand, they don’t even get a speaking role. Even with so much being added to the Doctor’s history, I can’t help but feel slightly short-changed.

Speaking of short-changed, let’s talk about that ending. The Doctor’s plan actually works, releasing her from the Matrix’s hold, which oddly also releases her from the Agency Stripper™. Convenient! Her companions find her as she’s lying there unconscious. They managed to find her rather quickly considering the city is in ruins. Convenient! The Doctor finds Ashad’s death particle, which has been shrunk down by the Master’s tissue compression device. I’m not sure, but I think this is the reason the death particle is no longer a threat to the entire universe. It now only seems to pose a threat to the organic life on Gallifrey. Maybe this is because Gallifrey is still in its own pocket universe? Either way, it wasn’t very clear. The Doctor makes contact with the Master and pinpoints his location. Convenient! She calls him to the citadel like it was Friday Night Wrestling and they have their little showdown. I swear if they’d have started making out, I wouldn’t have batted an eye, those two.

After forcing her companions to stay behind on a TARDIS set for Earth, the Doctor heads back to have a final showdown with the Master. With the tiny Cyberman attached to an explosive device resembling a torch, the Doctor decides she must kill the Master and this new race of Cyber-Masters before they can kill all of humanity. Having the ability to regenerate, the only way to take these mechanoids down is with the death particle. This is a far cry from the Doctor we’ve seen in "Genesis of the Daleks," or even "Daleks Take Manhattan," where the Doctor would consider such things "genocide." However, the Doctor gets a total cop-out moment as Ko Sharmus shows up long enough to detonate the device himself. After very little prompting, the Doctor allows him to sacrifice himself as she flees.

This, for me at least, is a longstanding problem with Chris Chibnall’s morality. It’s the Thirteenth Doctor’s weird relationship with guns all over again. As if to prove Davros’ point from "Journey’s End," this Doctor feels all too comfortable with allowing others to do her dirty work. Imagine the scene from "The Day of the Doctor," when Clara is standing there looking of the Doctors about to collectively blow up Gallifrey. It’s as if when she said "I never pictured you doing it," instead of changing his mind, the Doctor would say "You know, you’re right. You do it!” There’s a kind of mean spirited morality lurking beneath Chibnall’s writing. Or as my friend Adro jokingly put it- "I would not want to be his S&M partner."

The Doctor sends her companions and the last humans in the galaxy back to the 21st century. Surely no bootstrap paradoxes will come from Yedlarmi or Ethan making future generations of their own ancestors. Time Lords have bigger things to worry about than time anomalies. Right? Oh right. Graham and Ravio still seem perfectly capable of continuing their relationship, so that’s at least something. I also highly doubt either of them are likely to sire any paradoxical offspring any time soon. Though they are still fully capable of raising the sheep that go on to start the Wooly Rebellion. After finding herself pleasantly surprised to be alive, the Doctor finds her way back to her own TARDIS. However, before she can scoop up her companions, she’s intercepted by an angry Judoon who arrests her and throws her into space jail. I imagine this has something to do with why the Ruth Doctor was a "Fugitive of the Judoon."

After all is said and done, it’s really hard to pin down exactly how I feel about this episode. I do applaud the bold move of expanding the Doctor’s canon to include previous regenerations. I’ve always said that Doctor Who does occasionally need a showrunner willing to put their neck on the line. For better or worse, John Nathan-Turner was great for doing exactly that. Sometimes it’s a good thing to shake things up, and really dust off the cobwebs. Though strangely, a lot of tonight’s episode was very non-committal. The Master could very well have been lying.  Gallifrey could also still very easily be restored by using the Matrix’s memory. I personally would appreciate that as I love both Romana and Leela. The idea of the two of them dead and eaten away by the death particle is rather distressing. While I liked watching Jodie get a bit snippy and knocking the Master to the ground, I feel like a she never got a moment to be the Doctor. Her “Aha!” moment was short-lived and not very clever. She spends most of the episode either locked up or feeling helpless.

Also, where the hell was Captain Jack? What the hell Chibnall? How are they going to just give us five minutes of John Barrowman? It seems weird to introduce him only to put it off until the next series. However, the most egregious of sins for "The Timeless Children," is how utterly predictable it all was. As I illustrated above, I was able to imagine the entire concept of the Timeless Child the very first time I heard it mentioned. I put no deep effort into it either. It seemed like the most obvious storyline. The same could be said about people’s Ruth theories. Some of which were even better. The only way in which the episode could have surprised me was by making the Master the Timeless Child. It was the one point where I really perked up and began to feel a real interest in the plot. But alas, no, they went the incredibly obvious route. This isn’t to say they won’t be able to do interesting things with this in the future. The issue I’m having is that if I am able to figure out the plot just by hearing a single line of dialogue, did I even need to watch it?

[moriartysqueen]

Why I can’t quit Sherlock

Hello everybody.

This might be very weird, considering I rarely speak on my blog myself. Usually I just let reblogs, pictures, aesthetics and quotes speak for me.

This is the first time that I am openly voicing my thoughts and opinions on season 4. It’s been over two years now and I have slowly started to heal. Well, almost.

You all might have noticed that the Sherlock fandom has been rather dead after the disappointment that was season 4. I tried to keep up my blog about my favorite character, Jim Moriarty, regardless of what the writers made of him in season 4. I really tried. But some day, every single picture and gif of Moriarty has been reblogged, all the videos are watched, all the matching aesthetic about him or about Sheriarty or the other villains in the show has ended up on my blog. I tried to space out posts by using the queue, I tried looking on other social media outlets for new content, but eventually I had to face reality and accept that despite all my hopes, we will NOT be getting any new Moriarty-content.

It’s sad to say, but we all probably already accepted that there will probably not be a fifth season of Sherlock. Not that anybody actually wants it after what they did with season 4.

I have been rather quiet about the issue. So many other fandom-bloggers have spoken their mind about everything that went wrong with season 4. About how the writers didn’t care about us, about the original stories, about the characters and their relationships, about consistency in the story or about the sensitivity with the content they dealt with. They seemed to only care about the shock factor, trying to grab the audience by shocking them with the unexpected – in this case, the unexpected was something that evidently no one saw coming: because it does not make any sense.

Other people were mad because of TJLC. Like others, I have spent months, if not years researching TJLC, writing meta and fanfic and try to make sense of it. I WANTED to believe. I wanted to believe that it WASN’T just queerbaiting. I wanted to believe that the writers of this show, who have given us so many incredible episodes before, would be capable of adapting a realistic queer romance between two of the most well-known characters to ever exist – Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. We had faith that writers like Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, the latter being a gay man himself, could be the first to make tv-history. To create a tense and compelling tv show about crime solving, that just happened to have some gay romance in it.

And, understandably so, people were PISSED when we eventually had to find out in season 4, that it WAS all “just a cheap gay joke”. People were seriously hurt. I talked to fans whose mental health had decreased rapidly after seeing that the show we all loved could easily be diminished to a couple of gay jokes for views. That the beautiful friendship and eventually love-story we saw unfold was just a marketing strategy.

What made the least sense to me however in season 4 was: WHAT. HAPPENED. TO. MORIARTY?

Moriarty’s return had been teasered since after the end of season 2. “Did you miss me?” was part of almost every single advertisement for the following seasons. Hell, they made an entire 90 minute episode about how Moriarty could have possibly survived his suicide. The interviews, the ads, EVERYTHING teasered Moriartys return. And it makes sense – a story about a hero obviously needs a main arch enemy. And I do not buy that they had it planned all this time that Sherlocks own sister – who doesn’t even exist in the canon by the way – was behind everything Sherlock ever had to go through.

I believed in Moriarty and I kept this blog going because I knew he would eventually return – and we would eventually get a brilliant resolution to how he survived his suicide and what he had done in the meantime. I was ready for this.

But by the looks of it, we will never get this conclusion.

This fandom and this show have stressed me out so much, again and again. I rewatch the earlier episodes and I feel like SHIT, knowing what eventually became of the show I had so much faith in.

So I tried to quit it. I tried taking time away from the show, from this blog, from everything that could possibly remind me of this story.

I tried to flee into other fandoms and tv shows. And it does work for the most part. Hannibal has quickly become my favorite tv show after Sherlock, portraying an aesthetically pleasing tv show with a beautiful, unspoken love-story that had been confirmed by the writers.

 But my mind kept going back to Sherlock, to this awesome tv show with the incredible acting, all these episodes that caught me and captured me, sometimes led me to think about one episode for the rest of the day or week. It was like a drug – I knew how bad and toxic this fandom and this tv show is for me, I knew that there was no winning. I knew that I would feel bad after rewatching it, even if it was my favorite episode. But I just couldn’t stop – I rewatched the old TJLC content, I reread all the metas and fanfics I used to love, I continued writing my own stories and my head was still wrapped around this universe.

The way I coped was to just ignore season 4 ever happened. I act as though it is still the hiatus after season 3, where we were all so sure about what was going to come. Where we would all geek out together and imagine what it would be like after IT happened.

I have accepted that I cannot quit, no matter how much I want to.

In October, I have a tattoo appointment to get the phrase “I made me.” tattooed on my collar bone. Not because Sherlock is my favorite tv show. Not because I love the characters, the original stories, the actors and the adaptions.

It’s to remind myself of the good times I had. And the painful times. All the emotions I had with this show, the people I met and the things I’ve learned from this show. It’s a reminder. A reminder that even if I will eventually move on, there was something.

Because sometimes, you need to learn to live with an addiction. 

[hope-and-soap]

“Cover it up”: Ragnarok and the scars of history (2/2)

Find part 1 here

“It is I! Your saviour!”

So: hands up, those of us who were shocked/thrilled/horrifically excited etc when we were first presented with the prospect of seeing Loki on Asgard’s throne.

And now: hands up, those of us who were expecting what he actually did with it.

Loki’s a difficult character to deal with, largely because his motivations seem to be all over the place. In The Avengers he wants world domination and to not be killed by Thanos. In The Dark World he wants revenge for his mother and, in some small way, to get on a little better with Thor. These things, they don’t really line up, do they? And that leaves us, after all these films, still asking that question: what does Loki want?

When Loki took over Asgard, he didn’t take its armies on a campaign of conquest through the galaxy. He didn’t hunt down his enemies or murder his brother or invade Earth. He sat on a sofa and ate grapes and commissioned art in honour of himself – in honour of Loki, hero of Asgard, beloved of his father, forgiven of his crimes. Loki took over his country and then he took what he wanted: the love of Asgard’s people, his place in its history. Given the chance to have anything he wanted, this is what he chose. To be loved. To be accepted. To be remembered as one of them.

This, then, is what Loki wants: to be a hero of Asgard, rather than an outcast from it. To be someone they accept, not out of force, but out of love. This is, really, what he’s wanted ever since his first appearance – his villainous turn in Thor, after all, began as an attempt to win his father’s approval, and a large part of his snarling bitterness at his country and his family comes from the trauma of realising that neither is really his. Loki is haunted by the feeling of being other; what he wants, more than anything, is to be rid of that feeling.  

Read in this light, the appearance of the little blue kid at the end of The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard goes from being just a cute joke to something more significant: a reminder of where Loki comes from, and who he is. Not just an outsider, or an immigrant, but a hostage from a conquered race. If Hela represents the dark, violent imperialism of Asgard’s past, Loki represents the continuing reality of this imperialism in Asgard’s present. The Jotun were not victims of Hela’s violence, but they were victims of an impulse nearly identical to the one which Hela embodies – the impulse to fight, to conquer, to rule.

When I was sixteen I wanted to move to London. I wanted to write for the BBC; I wanted to be the next Steven Moffat. These are all reasonable dreams, when you are sixteen and a Doctor Who fan; to be honest, I still want to be Steven Moffat. But when I was sixteen I wanted more than that – I wanted to move to London and become British, to prove that I spoke English as well as any Englishwoman, to take the accent and the airs and dye my hair and change my passport and get an OBE from the Queen and forget where I came from and have everyone forget about that, too. To be a Singaporean who made good. To go to the people who’d conquered my people and make my place there, as one as good as them, as one of them.

I got older. I got better. I go to university in England now. Now and then I catch myself speaking with my accent from home and I rub it out before anyone else notices. I take the odd slang term and I hide it away. I work hard because I love my degree and I respect my tutors and I never learned how to not work hard when it comes to academia, and I work hard because one day I’m going to get a first and beat all my white brit friends and I’ll prove that I’m as good as them even though I’m Chinese. It kills me that there are cultural jokes my friends share with each other that I will never understand. It kills me that there is a form of humour over there that I was not raised to appreciate. I go to university in England now and I love that land and I love this land, here, where I came from, but it’s hard being home in two places, it’s hard being made in one and living in another, and sometimes that kills me too.

The place where I live during term time has been standing for a thousand years and it has a library with every book in the world in it and it is a beautiful city full of beautiful people who speak the language I love perfectly, it is a place of poetry, and home is a city full of squat practical buildings built in the last fifty years and advertisements on buses which have grammatical errors in and every now and then I think to myself if I had to pick one, if I had to pick one…

I am older, now. I am better. I tell myself I love my country. I tell myself I do not need to prove myself to anyone, especially not because they’re white, especially not because they would have been my masters, in another life. I am aggressively Singaporean now, aggressively Chinese, aggressively myself. I am no longer sixteen. Sometimes I catch myself wishing I had been born English. The very idea disgusts me. It’s still true.

When Loki takes over Asgard, he turns himself into Odin to do it. And if you’re anything like me, you thought that would’ve lasted for about as long as it would’ve taken him to quash all dissent, exile the strong and the loyal, and reveal his true self to the quivering, subjugated masses left with no other option than to submit to him. But here he is, years later, and he’s still Odin. He would, it seems, be happy to stay Odin for the rest of his life. Loki, remember, wants to rule, but more than that he wants to be loved. And if he can’t have both as himself, he’s willing to become a person who can. Odin, the symbol of every Asgardian ideal, the man who crushed Loki’s people, the man whose approval he was willing to destroy a world for – why wouldn’t he want to be him? Why wouldn’t he want to stay that way?

The tragedy of Loki of Asgard is this: that he becomes his own oppressor, just like I have become mine. We are the ones who set standards that we are never going to reach. We are the ones who are ashamed of where we come from, who we were, who we are now. We are the ones who look at a race of people we secretly resent and tell ourselves they are superior, that we will never be anything unless we can gain their approval, be like them, be them; we are the ones who will destroy ourselves trying. This is, you see, our own fault. Our own fault. We do this to ourselves.  

It’s no surprise, then, that Loki looks a lot like Hela – Hela, the conqueror, the colonialist, creator of empires. They are both tall, thin, pale-skinned; dark-eyed, dark-haired. Both wear horns. Their hairstyles are even similar, and their colour schemes – black and green, almost the same shade. The similarities don’t end there; both share a love of conquest, a desire for power, even certain turns of phrase – in ordering her brothers to kneel, after all, Hela is clearly stealing Loki’s line.

Loki is not just the victim of a history of violence and oppression. He is the inheritor of that history. He’s internalised it, let it take him over; let it dictate who he wants to be and who he is becoming – a creature of conquest, the embodiment of the very thing that did him damage. He becomes both his own oppressor and a symbol of his own oppression – both the victim and the villain of his own story. He takes on both sides of that history. He is scarred by both.

It is Loki, of all of Odin’s children, who has the best claim to Asgard’s history.

Which is, of course, why he gets to be the one to burn it all down.

“Get up. You’re in my seat.”

I just want to say two things about Thor.

The first is this: that Marvel’s filmmakers have finally found, in Thor’s arc in Ragnarok, the one storyline for which the protagonist needs to be a white man. Because Thor is the ultimate child of privilege – raised as royalty, heir to a throne, physically indestructible, with Aryan looks and a traditionally masculine personality. He is, both in-universe and out of it, the white-masculine ideal – the man’s man who oozes physical strength and (hetero)sexual appeal, a man with rank and status and money, handed power and authority on a silver platter. Thor is the one person who never had to fear all the things that Hela represents, because he is not the sort of person she conquers – he is the sort of person she conquers for.

And in this film, he comes to understand what it’s like being on the other side of that picture. This is not, of course, to say that Thor has never suffered before, or that he has never before been capable of compassion for those who are suffering – but he has never, till this point, been the victim of this particular form of violence. Before, he had always been a person with unquestioned agency, the hero of his own story, sometimes hurt but never at another’s mercy. He has been beaten; he has never been exploited. Until now.

In Ragnarok, Thor is enslaved, subjugated, kept in line by thinly-disguised torture. He has his throne stolen from him, his legitimacy questioned. He is used, abused, imprisoned not because he is recognised – as SHIELD recognised him in his first film – as a threat, but because he is property that must be kept in its proper place. He sees his people attacked. He loses his hammer and his agency and his hair – a loss which, though played for laughs, represents the violation of a body that has to this point been presented as absolutely inviolate and inviolable.

In this film, Thor goes from being a child of privilege to being a slave, a member of a victimised community, a sexualised object, a person without bodily autonomy. And because of this, he finally understands what it is to be these things. To be the victim of a system of power over which you have no control. To be the victim of violence which you are unable to fight. To be beaten and pressed down and thumbed under. To be powerless.

This is, ultimately, what makes his defeat of Hela powerful, and meaningful, and possible. Because Thor, as he was before, would never have been able to fight a system of oppression – he would barely have been able to comprehend it. Thor, the Mighty Thor, has no power in a world like this. We do not need mighty invincible champions who reach down from the heavens to save the oppressed. We do not need the child of privilege, given everything, lacking nothing. We need someone who will fight with us. Who feels this pain too. We need someone who understands.

The second thing I want to say is this: Thor is not the firstborn of Odin. Hela is. Thor is not the heir to Asgard’s throne. Hela is. In nations built on violence and cruelty it is not the children of privilege who inherit. It is history. It is violence. It is cruelty itself.

When Hela tells Thor that he is in her chair, she isn’t lying – she’s correct. The throne is hers, and so is the power, and so is the land. She owns it. It is hers. And none of them may remember, but it has always been hers.

And so Thor tells Loki to burn it down. He burns down his home, his life, everything he has ever known. But in the end, he loses nothing, because none of it was ever his, really. It is not his inheritance that he burns. It is hers.

Who really has your power? Who really owns your land? Can you let it live, knowing it feeds something darker and bloodier than you care to remember? Can you really cling to your gilded thrones, knowing you are usurpers, knowing that one day history will rise up to claim its inheritance?

Do you dare to burn it down?

What will you really lose?