Yep. I'm writing about Loki. Again.
So: Alyssa came over for a good long (five hour) chat yesterday (what a wonderful way to spend a Sunday) and she mentioned that Thor was on Netflix. So of course I watched it as soon as she left. I tried to rent it last week but it was checked out! :(
I've always had this idea... this dream... this desire.. to write a devotional on fantasy characters. And I thought maybe I could start here, posting some things about characters I love. Getting inside their thoughts and actions. Understanding what makes them who they are.
Because that is what inspires me.
No one has taught me to be myself like Luna Lovegood. No one has taught me strength like Padme Amidala. No one has taught me humility like Albus Dumbledore. And no one has taught me the simple ways good people fall into darkness like Anakin Skywalker.
So I'll begin with Loki.
I have no idea where I'm going. If this makes it into a book, I'm sure it'll be mutilated from this form in editing. Surely none of this will make the final cut.
But as my Dad says, "Never despise the day of small beginnings."
Loki's brother is Thor. Or - Loki is Thor's shadow. He's tailed him since a child, desperate to be his equal, yet never allowed to pass the test. How often it is that our families define so much of who we are.
Loki's adopted father rescued him from abandonment in a cold temple. His real father is the leader of Asguard's greatest enemies, the frost giants.
He's the god of mischief and trickery: I want to know why. He has powers of illusion rather than powers of strength or flight. He is unlike his brother in every way: in parentage, in abilities, in physical stature, in interests.
Except in one thing.
His father's love.
And that is something we all understand. We all get the idea of needing our fathers' love. We all know what it is to crave the praise of the adult we always wanted to be.
But Thor is his father's son.
I don't think Odin is ever unloving to Loki. But Thor and he bend the same way; like father like son. Plus, he is heir to the throne, not Loki. Loki is so close to and so similar to his brother that his shadow falls indescribably heavy on him.
But something in Loki itches for the throne, as if it could be his, as if it should be his.
And there's good reason for it. At the beginning of Thor, Thor is an arrogant schoolboy in a pompous red cape. Loki is wiser in these ways; he knows that he has skills Thor doesn't which will be needed to lead.
In some ways, Thor is half of his father, and Loki embodies the other half, the half which does not leap into battle but thinks first.
The desire he's always had to rule, to be king, which was groomed in him from childhood, watching Thor grow up to be a ruler, is given more light when Loki discovers that he is not, in fact, Asguardian. He's a frost giant.
What does Loki do with this knowledge, internally? I would like to know that. Does it confirm that he was meant to rule? Does it ignite sparks that were already lit, sparks of hitherto well-hidden egotism? Does it bother him that his family never told him, does he feel he was deceived? Or does it simply sever the alliance he already felt was breaking?
I think that's the thing about Loki. You're always interested in him because you can never figure out what he's thinking. Anything might be an illusion. Usually it is.
How many of us live like that? Live behind our magic illusions. Faking things to get the responses we desire. Manipulating is so much easier, sometimes. Easier than fighting. Easier than being honest. Easier than confronting. Especially when you don't have a magic hammer.
It's easier to manipulate than face things full out. But it requires cleverness, something people who are more Thor-oriented don't always have in abundance. Some people just want you to bring out the big guns so they can fight it out. Some of those are angry and just want a fight; others simply prefer fighting because it's simpler. Like, say, Han Solo.
But the Lokis of this world don't get into fights when they can avoid them. When they can get their way through trickery and deceit, they take it. There is wisdom in avoiding battle. But there is deceit in escaping it through trickery.
Lokis will skirt fights until they are made so bloated by success that their cleverness slips in a puddle of ego, as Loki's did in Avengers. Out comes the Hulk, and WHAM WHAM WHAM.
So Lokis are sneakier, cleverer, and manipulative. We've got that down.
But what about this vulnerable side of Loki? And this is a huge part of why we like him; because he is vulnerable. Which is so puzzling with all of the illusions and deceits that swirl around him. Could it be that his vulnerability is just a manipulative trick, too?
How far back does his master plan go??
I love this quote from Wired. *Spoilers on Thor 2 from here out*
So: Alyssa came over for a good long (five hour) chat yesterday (what a wonderful way to spend a Sunday) and she mentioned that Thor was on Netflix. So of course I watched it as soon as she left. I tried to rent it last week but it was checked out! :(
I've always had this idea... this dream... this desire.. to write a devotional on fantasy characters. And I thought maybe I could start here, posting some things about characters I love. Getting inside their thoughts and actions. Understanding what makes them who they are.
Because that is what inspires me.
No one has taught me to be myself like Luna Lovegood. No one has taught me strength like Padme Amidala. No one has taught me humility like Albus Dumbledore. And no one has taught me the simple ways good people fall into darkness like Anakin Skywalker.
So I'll begin with Loki.
I have no idea where I'm going. If this makes it into a book, I'm sure it'll be mutilated from this form in editing. Surely none of this will make the final cut.
But as my Dad says, "Never despise the day of small beginnings."
Loki's brother is Thor. Or - Loki is Thor's shadow. He's tailed him since a child, desperate to be his equal, yet never allowed to pass the test. How often it is that our families define so much of who we are.
Loki's adopted father rescued him from abandonment in a cold temple. His real father is the leader of Asguard's greatest enemies, the frost giants.
He's the god of mischief and trickery: I want to know why. He has powers of illusion rather than powers of strength or flight. He is unlike his brother in every way: in parentage, in abilities, in physical stature, in interests.
Except in one thing.
His father's love.
And that is something we all understand. We all get the idea of needing our fathers' love. We all know what it is to crave the praise of the adult we always wanted to be.
But Thor is his father's son.
I don't think Odin is ever unloving to Loki. But Thor and he bend the same way; like father like son. Plus, he is heir to the throne, not Loki. Loki is so close to and so similar to his brother that his shadow falls indescribably heavy on him.
But something in Loki itches for the throne, as if it could be his, as if it should be his.
And there's good reason for it. At the beginning of Thor, Thor is an arrogant schoolboy in a pompous red cape. Loki is wiser in these ways; he knows that he has skills Thor doesn't which will be needed to lead.
In some ways, Thor is half of his father, and Loki embodies the other half, the half which does not leap into battle but thinks first.
The desire he's always had to rule, to be king, which was groomed in him from childhood, watching Thor grow up to be a ruler, is given more light when Loki discovers that he is not, in fact, Asguardian. He's a frost giant.
What does Loki do with this knowledge, internally? I would like to know that. Does it confirm that he was meant to rule? Does it ignite sparks that were already lit, sparks of hitherto well-hidden egotism? Does it bother him that his family never told him, does he feel he was deceived? Or does it simply sever the alliance he already felt was breaking?
I think that's the thing about Loki. You're always interested in him because you can never figure out what he's thinking. Anything might be an illusion. Usually it is.
How many of us live like that? Live behind our magic illusions. Faking things to get the responses we desire. Manipulating is so much easier, sometimes. Easier than fighting. Easier than being honest. Easier than confronting. Especially when you don't have a magic hammer.
It's easier to manipulate than face things full out. But it requires cleverness, something people who are more Thor-oriented don't always have in abundance. Some people just want you to bring out the big guns so they can fight it out. Some of those are angry and just want a fight; others simply prefer fighting because it's simpler. Like, say, Han Solo.
But the Lokis of this world don't get into fights when they can avoid them. When they can get their way through trickery and deceit, they take it. There is wisdom in avoiding battle. But there is deceit in escaping it through trickery.
Lokis will skirt fights until they are made so bloated by success that their cleverness slips in a puddle of ego, as Loki's did in Avengers. Out comes the Hulk, and WHAM WHAM WHAM.
So Lokis are sneakier, cleverer, and manipulative. We've got that down.
But what about this vulnerable side of Loki? And this is a huge part of why we like him; because he is vulnerable. Which is so puzzling with all of the illusions and deceits that swirl around him. Could it be that his vulnerability is just a manipulative trick, too?
How far back does his master plan go??
I love this quote from Wired. *Spoilers on Thor 2 from here out*
"We saw Loki begin to fray in Thor and unravel across Avengers; now, returned to Asgard and incarcerated for what is meant to be eternity, he clings to arrogant indifference over a profound pathos that surfaces only during a visit from an illusory projection of Frigga — though whether she’s a projection of Loki’s actual adopted mother or a figment of his own conjuring is never clear.
When Thor comes to him for help after Frigga’s death, Loki struts and postures until Thor calls his deception out and the bright illusion drops away, revealing the real Loki slumped in a corner, bedraggled with sorrow and rage, surrounded by a shambles of smashed furniture. It’s a powerful and shocking moment, testament to the tenacity with which Loki clings to his last shreds of control."
That moment is what floored me. Because Loki seemed so real, so raw, so very much not on a screen and so very truly right before me. Maybe I caught a glimpse of myself in his eyes.
Surely he couldn't be faking it? Surely he would be honest with Thor, at least Thor, of all people. I mean, his mother's dead. The only mother he's known. And I get the idea he was kind of a mama's boy, since Thor and his father were so alike. She was probably one of the hugest impacts on his life. And he's not only lost her approval by trying to take over the earth, he's lost her altogether.
But when Loki ends up on the throne of Asgard at the end of the movie, you re-think it all through.
Was that a manipulative move? Was the Loki of the bloody feet the real Loki? By the way the illusion shatters when Thor demands it to, I think we are meant to believe that is the real Loki, and that he really is distraught and torn apart by his imprisonment and his mother's death, and he's putting up a front for everybody else.
And don't you just get that?
There's something so powerful about seeing illusion stripped from pain; indifference revealed as as a front. Seeing someone broken always gets us.
Because. We're. All. Broken! My soul is jumping up and down as I say this, as if it's important. I suppose it is. Isn't that so much the point of life? Seeing through others' indifference to the brokenness inside? Isn't that caring?
And that brokenness in Loki gives color to all of the rest of the movie. It provides the paradox. Because how can Loki trick Thor, imprison (or kill) his father, and take over Asgard and still be the broken man we felt compassion for?
Because villains can be broken, too.
It's just that out of their brokenness comes anger, pride, and self-pity or self-obsession. Out of Thor's brokenness, when he was banished from Asgard by Odin in Thor, grew compassion, humility, and the ability to see others for the broken, beautiful people they are.
Isn't it always what we do with our pain? Isn't that always what makes or breaks us?
And that is why I don't want to be Loki. I don't want to live illusions. I don't want people to have a relationship with a fake me while I sit against the wall, arms bleeding, heart aching, desperate for someone to see me but never letting them know I'm hurt.
This is my statement.
I am no illusion.
Surely he couldn't be faking it? Surely he would be honest with Thor, at least Thor, of all people. I mean, his mother's dead. The only mother he's known. And I get the idea he was kind of a mama's boy, since Thor and his father were so alike. She was probably one of the hugest impacts on his life. And he's not only lost her approval by trying to take over the earth, he's lost her altogether.
But when Loki ends up on the throne of Asgard at the end of the movie, you re-think it all through.
Was that a manipulative move? Was the Loki of the bloody feet the real Loki? By the way the illusion shatters when Thor demands it to, I think we are meant to believe that is the real Loki, and that he really is distraught and torn apart by his imprisonment and his mother's death, and he's putting up a front for everybody else.
And don't you just get that?
There's something so powerful about seeing illusion stripped from pain; indifference revealed as as a front. Seeing someone broken always gets us.
Because. We're. All. Broken! My soul is jumping up and down as I say this, as if it's important. I suppose it is. Isn't that so much the point of life? Seeing through others' indifference to the brokenness inside? Isn't that caring?
And that brokenness in Loki gives color to all of the rest of the movie. It provides the paradox. Because how can Loki trick Thor, imprison (or kill) his father, and take over Asgard and still be the broken man we felt compassion for?
Because villains can be broken, too.
It's just that out of their brokenness comes anger, pride, and self-pity or self-obsession. Out of Thor's brokenness, when he was banished from Asgard by Odin in Thor, grew compassion, humility, and the ability to see others for the broken, beautiful people they are.
Isn't it always what we do with our pain? Isn't that always what makes or breaks us?
And that is why I don't want to be Loki. I don't want to live illusions. I don't want people to have a relationship with a fake me while I sit against the wall, arms bleeding, heart aching, desperate for someone to see me but never letting them know I'm hurt.
This is my statement.
I am no illusion.