![]() Hemsworth has two other comic collaborators: an enormous green special effect with a Hulk-sized inferiority complex, and Mark Ruffalo as the rumpled, fast-talking little wisecracker Bruce Banner, who’d like to put as much distance between himself and his humongous alt-self as possible. Here is Hemsworth on the same planet, trying to warm the heart of an alcoholic Valkyrie played by Tessa Thompson, who’s only one comic set piece away from being as much fun as Dorothy Lamour in a sarong - but is, in any case, a laudable female role model (minus the alcoholism). Here is the bulging-all-over Chris Hemsworth as Thor - world-weary, having been chained, electrocuted, smashed and bashed, and shorn of much of his hair - striding through a garbage scow of a planet trading acid barbs with the skinny, black-clad Tom Hiddleston, whose Loki is every inch the wild Romantic poet as redesigned by Tim Burton. Who needs this violent junk when you can see some of the most casually funny clowning since the Hope and Crosby road comedies of the 1940s? ![]() There were moments in the newest Marvel extravaganza, Thor: Ragnarok, when I was having so fantastic a time that I resented the interruption of yet another brainless, weightless action sequence featuring a little computer-generated man throwing around and zapping other little computer-generated men.
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