So beloved that I had actively avoided rereading it and writing about it throughout the entire duration of Thorsday Thoughts... until now. In fact, I had not reread a single issue of this series since it finished in early 2011. I remembered it so fondly that I was terrified that revisiting it would reveal previously unnoticed flaws, that it would fail to live up to my rose-tinged memories. I preferred the half-forgotten version that existed in my head to confronting the reality of ink on paper. In short: I was a coward. But no more. I have now sat down and reread these comics and, more than that, am putting fingers to keyboard to put down some Thoughts on these comics.
Regardless of the quality, the choices that Langridge makes interest me quite a bit. This is a ground up reworking/retelling of the Thor story, able to draw upon anything in the character’s past, and what Langridge chooses to use and what he chooses to ignore are both insightful into what he’s trying to accomplish. This is meant to be an entry level Thor comic where you require no familiarity with the character, though some familiarity definitely helps to catch various references and the way that Langridge plays off previous stories and versions of characters. Given that the series launched nearly a year before the movie hit theatres, while it may have taken some inspiration from the early concepts known, it wasn’t directly influenced by the film, at least not in too many ways that readers would know at the time.
The premise is simple: Jane Foster works at a museum in Bergen, Oklahoma, and comes into contact with a strange, seemingly homeless man that turns out to be Thor. He is virtuous and defends her (and others) from the terrifying threat of Mr. Hyde, and she offers her couch to him with the two eventually becoming romantically involved. Thor is on Earth for reasons he does not know, eventually learning that he did something to cause his father to send him away to learn humility. By the end of the eighth issue, we discover the reason for Thor’s memory gap, but don’t know any specifics about the how or why of his banishment.
From that little bit, the choices that Langridge makes all manage to reflect the Thor story that we know, while putting his own spin on them. There’s no Donald Blake or any other human alter ego. Jane Foster isn’t a nurse or a medical doctor. Nor is she the physicist that Natalie Portman would portray in the movie. Even the setting moves away from New York, while maintaining Oklahoma from the J. Michael Straczynski run and movie, but in a different fictional town, one that takes its name from Norway. As the issues progress, we learn more and more about this world, which seems like a version of the early Marvel Universe with Ant-Man, Wasp, Namor, Captain Britain, Iron Man, and Captain America all making appearances. Thor’s supporting cast in Asgard is all familiar faces: Odin, Loki, the Warriors Three, and Heimdall (while she doesn’t make an appearance, it looks like Sif is on the cover of the first issue as well). Within that larger context, the focus on the series is very much on the interactions (and relationship) between Thor and Jane. This series easily could have aped the title of Mary Jane Loves Spider-Man and called this book Jane Loves Thor. Instead, it takes its title from an early version of the movie’s title when it was to follow Captain America: The First Avenger as Thor: The Mighty Avenger. We don’t actually see the Avengers in any coherent form in the series.
Excising Blake (or any human alter ego) simplifies Thor’s story immensely, while recognising that his exile on Earth is already enough to hang his character on. The complexity of being both an exiled Norse god and juggling a human life would be too much for this series, which focuses on coherent single issue stories. I’m sure Langridge and Samnee would have loved to play around with the idea at some point, particularly the comedic elements, but, in these nine issues, there’s clearly no room. Instead, the focus is on the contrast between Thor and Jane, the immortal god and the regular human as the former tries to learn about this new world he finds himself on and the latter tries to adjust with this alien being suddenly up-ending her life. Once Blake is removed, Jane being a nurse or doctor doesn’t make a lot of sense. Having her work at a museum gives her an overlap with Thor, particularly when she’s given oversight into the Viking exhibit at the beginning of the first issue. She has familiarity with Thor conceptually and is receptive to the idea that he’s telling the truth before any evidence is given. In fact, the subtle implication is that this is the sort of thing she always hoped would happen to her. It’s basically her job come to life and sleeping on her couch!
The structure of the series isn’t as simple as a series of self-contained issues, mostly because none of the issues are self-contained. The first two and final two issues are two-parters, while the rest of the issues are complete stories that link up and flow to and from the other issues. I was actually surprised how many plot threads carried over from issue to issue and impressed at how well each issue manages to tell a complete story, while picking up a detail or two from a previous issue. The third issue, for example, is a direct sequel to the first two issues where, in the course of his rampage, Mr. Hyde kills the scientist that invented the serum that transforms him – a scientist that, it turns out, helped mentor Hank Pym, prompting him to, then, investigate the murder. While the third issue tells its own story, mostly about a trick Loki plays on Thor, causing him to perceive Giant-Man as a Frost Giant, it very much flows out of the second issue. That flow from issue to issue exists throughout the run, but almost every issue works on its own.
That progression is central to the series. There is a constant feeling that things are moving forward: Thor and Jane’s relationship; Thor’s uncovering the reason for his exile; Thor’s growth as he works to return to Asgard; and Jane introducing Thor to the wonders of Earth. Each issue advances those four things in one way or another and, while the series ended before any of them could resolve, that sense of forward momentum is an exciting element of the series. The combination of self-contained issue with constant progression seems like a contradiction – and it was definitely at odds with the storytelling in most superhero comics at the time where trade paperback-sized stories driven by decompression and issues that seemed to linger on moments so long as to feel stagnant at times. Yet, Langridge makes it work by tying all four elements into the main plot of each issue. While each issue’s plot would resolve, it would also advance those four elements a little bit, giving both a sense of completion and progression. Dipping in for a single issue would be satisfying on its own; reading the entire run would give a larger story. And by focusing every issue around those constant elements, it allows Langridge and company to ground any new ideas, keeping things on track and with a purpose. If the Warriors Three pop into town to visit, it will serve to advance the subplots of the series.
When I call the series simple, it’s because of that central focus. The plots don’t get too complicated, there isn’t a lot of intricate moving pieces. Everything revolves around Thor and Jane, often as a pair. More than revolving around them, every character and plot exists only in relation to them. There is no ‘extra’ in these issues. No go-nowhere subplots. No extraneous scenes or characters. This is a ‘simple’ comic in the sense that it is incredibly disciplined and focused, both in the writing and the art. Langridge and Samnee prefer to tell stories through the characters. Every issue’s plot can be summed up quickly and usually resolves itself through long character interactions. While Langridge’s dialogue is clever and insightful, I usually lingered over Samnee’s drawings.
One of my favourite interactions is in issue six when we see Thor try to return to Asgard, only to be barred entry by Heimdall. Samnee’s Heimdall takes its cue from Idris Elba’s casting, depicting him with brown skin, but that choice is only one of many interesting ones. As guardian of the Bifrost, Samnee draws him as towering over Thor and his eyes constantly in shadows. Given that he’s meant to literally see everything in his duties, that you never see his eyes (barring one panel) shows the hidden layers of the character. As we see, his powers are much different here than we are used to as he transforms his form to keep Thor out of Asgard, including becoming a dragon that resembles Fin Fang Foom and, then, a literal rockslide, all while maintaining a calm, even demeanour. His shadowy face matches his stoic, matter of fact tone in dealing with Thor. He’s cool, calm, and constantly supportive of his young friend. That Samnee draws him as a good two or three feet taller than Thor emphasises the sort of mentor/protégé relationship that seems to exist with Heimdall as the wise older warrior that often gives sage advice to the young prince – just as he does throughout their confrontation.
Thor’s youth is constantly emphasised. Despite being thousands of years old, in the life of a immortal, he’s barely out of his teens. His strength isn’t quite the ‘challenge the Hulk’ level that we’re used to and our expectations of the character are often toyed with. In the first issue, he’s wrestled to the ground by museum security and thrown several times through the window of a bar. Even after he regains Mjolnir and his full strength, he’s still very much a young god that, while stronger than a human, is a far way from where he’ll someday be. It’s usually his courage and determination that carries the day more than brute strength. Continually, he’ll do what’s right even though it seems likely he’ll fail or suffer dire consequences. Part of what wins over Jane in the first issue is his unwillingness to back down from defending a woman from the unwanted advances of Hyde even through Hyde keeps overpowering Thor. Honestly, it’s not an unfamiliar take on the character. It’s the regular version of the character distilled to a narrow, specific form. He’s young, he’s headstrong, he’s got a good heart, and he’s got a ton of potential. This is as pure a form of the character as you’re likely to ever get.
The character that I struggled to fully wrap my head around is Jane. In many ways, she’s the main character of the series, at first. While it does become a Thor-centric comic (I’d argue the fourth issue when the Warriors Three visit is when it transitions from Jane to Thor), she’s almost a co-lead. I wasn’t kidding with the “Jane Loves Thor” idea. At the same time, what exactly motivates and drives her is a bit more opaque. Where Thor is a known quantity and, largely, he’s merely a version of that character that we know, Jane is a bit more of a new creation. The regular Jane Foster suffered in the original comics from being a bit of a hollow character. An ideal woman that Thor/Blake loved without much justification. She was a nurse and an inherently good person, although it was her beauty that was often emphasised. I’ve never had as much of a problem with the idea that a fictional character is appealing for reasons never quite articulated as others, since that actually mirrors reality, for me. I could give you a bunch of reasons why I love my wife, but they would never really capture the core truth, one that seems beyond words somehow. I don’t think that Jane is entirely in that territory here, although there are elements of that. I mean, part of what makes her so appealing to Thor is that she’s there. He meets her, there’s a mutual attraction, and admiration, and that grows over time. Dead simple.
But, what I’ve been reflecting upon is what Jane actually wants in this series. When it begins, we learn two things about her: she likes her job and gets a promotion despite believing she may be fired, and she has had an on again/off again relationship that she’s decided to end permanently. In her professional life, she’s successful but has low confidence; in her personal life, she’s not as successful but has self-awareness and self-respect. It’s an interesting combination to introduce a Thunder God into. What it results in, initially, is that, without a human alter ego for Thor, Jane kind of fills that role. The involvement of Thor introduces professional and personal drama into her life, both good and bad. Early on, she nearly loses her job thanks to Mr. Hyde (and Thor, kind of), but that same conflict provides the catalyst for her to have it secured as a favour from Janet Van Dyne. The idea of off-loading all of that usual alter ego drama onto Thor’s romantic foil is an interesting one and, while it doesn’t maintain its steam after the first few issues, that’s actually a good thing. One of the more frustrating elements of the Marvel style of superhero comics, at time, is the constant need for ‘human level’ drama that usually involves the hero sacrificing something in their personal life to do good as a hero. It works for Spider-Man and, thus, it became the norm. After that initial blip, the series settles into ‘human drama’ meaning people just having weird things happen and having to deal with those weird things without the constant pressure of job loss or eviction or whatever other extreme crisis could arise.
But, still, that doesn’t quite answer who Jane is in this series. Why is she drawn to Thor? While Thor is a good person, she does seem to be repeating her romantic history in a way. When she breaks up with Jim in the first issue, her big reason is that he’s inattentive and more focused on his career than her. Thor is definitely attentive to Jane, using up one of three tips on a magic chariot to take her on a picnic, yet his primary focus is his personal problem is learning why he was banished from Asgard and returning home. At some point, Thor will leave Jane. Had the series continued, that crisis would have no doubt come up as Thor would be forced to choose. And I think we all know that, eventually, he would return to his home. He’s an exciting, thrilling person to be around, no doubt. I love that their relationship is clearly doomed as she found someone who obviously has priorities that don’t include her after she broke things off with a man for just that reason. Maybe the self-awareness I attributed to her isn’t there as much as I thought...
That eventual doom in their relationship mirrors the structure of the series that I spoke of earlier. What we get in these issues are all of these little romantic adventures that progress their relationship, all while that reckoning is no doubt coming. The cancellation of the series means that we never actually get that resolution, for good and ill. I really do think that there is a positive to the limited nature of the series and it relates to the hesitancy to revisit the series that I started this piece with. The legacy and idea of Thor the Mighty Avenger benefits from the eighth issue getting a little “of 8” added to its cover. Much like Thor and Jane’s relationship, there was no decline in this series. It may have had unrealised highs that we’ll never experience; but, it also never got bad. It remains a book of unknown potential and possibilities.
It remains the best and most effective
distillation of the Thor concept. If you’re looking for the true template that
an ‘ultimate’ line of comics that modernises and simplifies decades of
continuity and character development, look no further. I’m so glad that I got
over myself and finally pulled this out of the long box to read again.
