Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em.

Well, I’m sure it helped that, between the series of underwhelming trailers and the general hokiness of the source material, I went in with expectations calibrated at about shin-level. Still, I was surprised to discover this past Friday that Kenneth Branagh’s corny but amiable adaptation of Marvel’s Thor — which I caught IN THREE DIMENSIONS (the third of which adds next to nothing, by the way; save your money) — is totally and utterly not-bad.

That may seem like I’m damning this first of four comic book tentpoles this summer — along with X-Men: First Class, Green Lantern, and Captain America: The First Avenger — with faint praise. But, hey, sometimes ok is a good thing. There’s not much reaching for depth here: Branagh’s Thor is smart and self-referential enough to know that, once you get past all the family strife, Norse brooding, hubris of Gods, and whatnot, this is just a breezy, early-May popcorn film, and it keeps a light touch accordingly. The Dark Knight, this isn’t.

As such, and perhaps not surprisingly, Thor — the story of a fallen deity’s misadventures in the American Southwest, and the brother who betrayed him back home — feels more in keeping with the Make-Mine-Marvel larkiness of Iron Man. (And although IM was a much better film, Thor is more successful and self-contained a story than the rush job that was Iron Man 2.)

Like Iron Man, Thor is a comic that — Walt Simonson’s epic run in the 80’s notwithstanding — I’ve remained mostly agnostic about over the years. With all due respect to the Nordic pantheon from whence he came, Thor has just never been all-that-interesting a comic book character to me. He’s…a guy…with a hammer. Nor, for that matter, are his powers very well-defined. So, ok, he’s strong and can kinda sorta control the weather. But there’re a lot of generic strongmen running around the Marvel universe — Hulk, Hercules, Colossus, Juggernaut. What makes Thor different?

With that in mind, Branagh and his team of screenwriters make the smart move of dropping the “trapped as mere mortal Dr. Donald Blake” part of Thor’s origin and taking what’s distinctive about the character — mainly, his Asgardian roots and his noble, if a bit dense, nature — to fashion a fish-out-of-water story instead. Most of the humor that keeps the movie humming along — say, Thor going to the pet store to find a Lockjaw-type large steed on which to ride through the desert — ensues from this wise decision to skip canon and tell a rollicking Thor story (Thory?) instead.

The film also benefits from a bevy of actors, including but by no means limited to Chris “Papa Kirk” Hemsworth as the titular thunder god, who can managed the dual feat of conveying comic book gravitas when it is required and delivering moments of pure cheese with a wink and a nod. Anthony Hopkins, of course, is an old hand at this sort of thing by now, but his Odin is matched well by Tom Hiddleston’s impressive turn as Loki, the God of Mischief. (Let’s face it, Loki was always a more interesting character than Thor anyway, almost by design, and perhaps the most visceral geek thrill I got out of Thor was seeing Hiddleston — in the iconic horned helmet — lounging on Asgard’s throne like something out of Milton.) And a number of other actors here match the same wry and knowing tone perfectly, from Idris Elba’s Heimdall to Clark Gregg’s ubiquitous Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D to Stellan Skargard, here in the often-thankless role of skeptical science guy/mentor to the love interest.

Speaking of the love interest, Natalie Portman continues her post-Black Swan year-of-many-films here as super-physicist Jane Foster, and she’s decent enough at it. At the very least she doesn’t exhibit the deer-in-a-headlights stare that accompanied her last venture into FX-heavy fandom, the prequels. If there’s a weak link here, it’s probably — and sadly — Rome‘s Ray Stevenson (who already did time in the Marvelverse as the Punisher, in the one with McNutty) as Volstagg of the Warriors Three, a.k.a. Falstaff in the comics, Gimli in this film. I like Stevenson, but he’s mostly just miscast here. A more rotund individual (Oliver Platt? Mark Addy?) probably could’ve sold the character better.

Still, the very fact that the Warriors Three are traipsing around the margins of a big summer movie just goes to show what an embarrassment of riches comic book fans are enjoying at the multiplex these days. Even if I’m not much of a fan of Thor per se, I have to admit I definitely enjoy watching the world-building Marvel is engaged in as a studio right now. (Here, various Marvel denizens are name-dropped, and another Avenger shows up briefly mid-movie — You’ll know him when you see him.)

Like the comics they’re based on, these pre-Avengers films have permeable borders. It’s like nothing we’ve seen before at the cinema, and the ambition is thrilling. Of course, there will be a backlash eventually — one of these comic book films is going to bomb, and bomb big. But, surprisingly to me at least, Thor doesn’t signify the end is near. To the contrary, it shows that if you get a good director, good writers, and good actors who take their source seriously — but not too seriously — the comic book experience is actually pretty translatable to the big screen. The ball’s in your court now, Hal Jordan.

Hammer and Prongs.

Metallica roadie or Norse God of Thunder? Chris “Papa Kirk” Hemsworth finds himself stuck inside of Midgard with the Asgard blues again in the teaser for Kenneth Branagh’s Thor, also with Anthony Hopkins, Natalie Portman, Tom Hiddleston, Ray Stevenson, Clark Gregg, Kat Dennings, Colm Feore, Rene Russo, Jaimie Alexander, Stellan Skarsgard, and Idris Elba. Hmmm. Like the forthcoming Green Lantern over on the DC side, this looks rather cheesy…but maybe Loki will be fun.

Meanwhile, a more promising upcoming comic creation announces its main villain — one who’s also potentially featured in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises — in this impressive trailer for Batman: Arkham City, due out next fall. Looks great, and Arkham Asylum is both very fun and a totally immersive Batman experience. But, while I get that they’re riffing on Call of Duty: Black Ops here (and take that, Sam Fisher), I’m already way over the recent trend towards interrogation scenes in my gaming.

If I Had a Hammer…

As Iron Man 2 launches in one week (and, if you’re feeling spoilerish, the post-credit sequence has leaked), the next Avenger down the pike, the Mighty Thor, gets ready for his close-up. That’s Chris Hemsworth (formerly Papa Kirk in Star Trek) as the Asgardian in question. Joining him in Kenneth Branagh’s film are Tom Hiddleston (Loki), Natalie Portman (Jane Foster), Anthony Hopkins (Odin), Jaimie Alexander (Sif), Rene Russo (Frigga), Kat Dennings (Darcy), Stellan Skarsgard (Selvia), Idris Elba (Heimdall), Ray Stevenson (Volstagg), and Colm Feore (a villain to be named later — possibly the Destroyer?)

Norsemen and Networks.

Casting for Kenneth Branagh’s take on Thor fills out, with Jaimie Alexander and Colm Feore joining the cast. Alexander plays Sif, while “Feore’s character is shrouded in mystery, though it is known to be a villain.” (That spells trouble to me — Be it stage or screen, Feore can be super-hammy.)

Whoever Feore is playing (Mephisto?), it’s not Loki — That would be Tom Hiddleston, appearing alongside “Papa Kirk” Chris Hemsworth as Thor and Natalie Portman as Jane Foster.

Meanwhile, the strange Aaron Sorkin-penned, David Fincher-directed Facebook movie, The Social Network, gets a cast in Jesse Eisenberg, Justin Timberlake, and Doctor Who alum Andrew Garfield (also soon to appear in Gilliam’s Imaginarium.) “Eisenberg will play Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg; Timberlake will play Sean Parker, the Napster co-founder who became Facebook’s founding president; and Andrew Garfield will play Eduardo Saverin, the Facebook co-founder who fell out with Zuckerberg over money.“

Dead Brides and Demonic Coeds.

In the trailer bin, The Nightmare Before Christmas meets Grim Fandango in this new look at Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. And, for non-stop-motion haunts, lawyer Laura Linney tries to ascertain priest Tom Wilkinson’s part in The Exorcism of Emily Rose, ostensibly based on a true story.

Washington in Rome.

“Why should his name be sounded more than yours? Write them, yours is as fair; Sound them, Yours doth become the tongue as well.” Why? Well, cause he’s a full-fledged movie star, that’s why. Still, despite having a bit of a muttering problem at times, Denzel acquits himself “honorably” as Brutus in Julius Caesar, which I saw last night at the Belasco Theatre. Set in a half-post-apocalyptic, half-Depression-era Rome that evokes anything from Masked & Anonymous to Black Hawk Down, this version of Shakespeare’s classic is innovatively staged and well-worth seeing, but, unfortunately, it also suffers from a stylistic dissonance that hinders the play at its most crucial moments.

The central problem with this production is the clash of acting methods. Many of the actors — and particularly Denzel — underplay their roles to the extreme. In fact, in delivery if not in diction, Denzel’s naturalistic Brutus is only a step or two from most of his other performances, be it Glory, Devil in a Blue Dress, or The Manchurian Candidate. That would be fine, if everyone else was on the same page, and a lot of the other actors are. Jack Willis (at left) deadpans Casca like Cypher from The Matrix, and Patrick Page steals his one major scene (in which he convinces Caesar to report to the Senate on the Ides of March) by portraying Decius Brutus as the worst kind of unctuous DC aide, complete with a leather executive folder in tow and a flatterer’s simper plastered on his face.

Unfortunately, some of the other actors didn’t get the memo. Bill Sadler’s Caesar is prone to acts of grandstanding, but that’s acceptable — he’s Caesar, after all, and bestrides the narrow world like a Colossus. No, the main offender is Colm Feore as Cassius, who plays the lean, hungry Machiavel in full “Master Thespian” mode — at times he’s hammier here than he was in Riddick. I’ll admit, I may be being a bit hard on Feore, as Cassius has always been one of my favorite Shakespearean characters (well, until he gets all weepy and high-maintenance in the second half of the play.) And Feore’s performance might be fine for a different cast of Caesar…but here, he’s just off. If this is Denzel’s Julius Caesar, as everything seems to suggest, Feore’s portrayal of Cassius should have mirrored Denzel’s low-key, understated Brutus. Instead, Feore is overplaying to the hilt, and the contrast is jarring in every scene the two central plotters share.

The Denzel-disconnect causes problems elsewhere, too, notably in the crucial Act III funeral speeches. Eamonn Walker makes a fine Mark Antony throughout, but he just doesn’t have the star wattage or natural charisma of Denzel Washington. As a result, Antony’s manipulative eulogy — the critical hinge moment of the play — seems slightly tepid and uninvolving compared to Brutus’ earlier rousing oratory. It’s possible that I’m just ruined by the James Mason-Marlon Brando version, as there does seem to be some precedent in the play for this take: “I am no orator, as Brutus is…I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, to stir men’s blood.” Still, I think there’s a dramatic problem if Brutus’ oration is more of a showstopper than Antony’s. If anything, it seems here that their roles should have been reversed.

Still, despite these grievances, Julius Caesar is a satisfying production for the most part, with some particularly nice visual flourishes throughout. The Escape from New York, Berlin-bunker look of the set seems strange at first, but gains potency as the play darkens — in the “Cinna the poet” mob scene, for example. (Speaking of which, between this and Sith, it’s been a bad week for republics.) And I particularly liked the look of the Senate, even if it was somewhat reminiscent of Liev Schrieber’s EXCOMM war room in the Henry V revival two years ago. (With that in mind, the play gets off a great Homeland Security gag, as the various conspirators have to figure out a way around the Senate metal detector.)

The war scenes of the final acts are also surprisingly kinetic, with Roman forces garbed in guerilla green or black weaving through the hollowed-out set and spouting commands in verse. In fact, while I guess this shouldn’t be a shock given the subject matter, this production of Julius Caesar is also quite grisly — they don’t skimp on the blood and gore, and Sadler’s corpse is frozen in a horrifying Ring-like rictus scream during the Antony speech. (Strangely, this produced nary a shudder in the crowd, while the mere sight of Caesar’s bare posterior earlier on sent the audience into a paroxysm of shocked gasps — the MPAA has screwed up this country something fierce.)

So, in sum, Julius Caesar is a worthy production that makes for a good evening out, but it’s got some issues that keep it from being an all-time classic version of the play. The fault, dear readers, is not in its stars, but in its supporting cast, that they are underlings. In the end, a more balanced production, with either more or less star power, would have probably worked out better.

Eyes, Spies, Tom, and Cat.

It’s Friday, and at the end of a grim-visaged week, the world needs more trailers. In the bin today, we’ve got a new view of The Chronicles of Riddick, Vin Diesel and David Twohy’s follow-up to Pitch Black (sadly, it still looks like a very expensive Sci-Fi Channel original movie), evil Tom Cruise in Michael Mann’s Collateral (The LA gunplay of Heat meets the visual style of The Insider), the first look at The Bourne Supremacy (Identity was a nice surprise, although this one seems very similar), and the teaser for Halle Berry’s embarrassing-looking Catwoman (The early buzz has been awful, and this blah clip won’t change it.)