Often the idea of a beginning can be challenging, and it’s no wonder that some of the best told stories initialize in media res - in the midst of the action. After all, aren’t we more interested in a hero’s journey, and not the monotonous series of decisions and events that brought them to its start?
In days gone by, I’d reply with a solid “no” and move on, but with the litany of prequel novels, comics, and origin story films that have materialized over the past two decades (largely due to the hype surrounding the apocryphal episodes 4, 5, and 6 of my beloved Star Wars Trilogy) I can’t deny that folks love them some backstory. And it is here where Loki foils its first potential trap and finds its footing towards success - instead of falling prey to the dull as getout trope of prequel, the series picks up immediately during the events of Endgame, and delivers a devilish though no less heartbreaking glimpse into the psychology of the God of Mischief himself: one Loki Laufeyson.
So then, reader, it is here that we shall establish our beginning.
First streaming on Disney Plus in June of 2021, Loki was created by screenwriter Michael Waldron (Rick and Morty, Doctor Strange: In the Multiverse of Madness) and helmed by Kate Herron (The Idris Takeover, Sex Education), and follows the exploits of Tom Hiddleston’s Loki as he uses a fumbled Tesseract to portal out of the “time heist” events of Endgame. Our alleged antagonist finds himself in the midst of the Gobi Desert, and before he can dust himself off and do his regular thing of subjecting the locals, he’s quickly accosted by armored, club-wielding time cops who have absolutely zero chill and even less time for his antics. Stripped of his magic, raiment, and dignity, Loki’s incarcerated in a neo-futuristic hellscape of bureaucratic impediment where the so-called Time Variance Authority has determined that he’s a variant from a deviant timeline - and must be purged from existence.
The story is given further nuance as Loki’s fate is nearly sealed by the hands of the TVA’s authoritative Judge Ravonna Renslayer (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), though he is saved just in time by the playful but sober Agent Mobius (Owen Wilson), who believes that our Loki would be an asset in tracking down a rogue variant that is running amuck along the Sacred Timeline. In a classic interrogation scene, our Asgardian scoundrel is sat opposite Mobius in the TVA’s “Time Theater,” where low-key (hah hah hah) lighting retains our actors in the shadows, neither one yet attempting to call the others bluff and potentially overplay their hands. Mobius projects a flickering play by play of Loki’s past deeds into the air before him, testing Loki’s resolve. There is a barbed defiance in Loki’s voice as he counters Mobius’s accusatory advance, and Hiddleston is brilliant in conveying the doubt that betrays his tone. It’s infuriating to see Loki on the backfoot, with Mobius feigning innocent interest in what “makes a Loki tick.”
Plans never unfold according to design wherever Loki Laufeyson is involved, of course - when the TVA goes on high alert with another attack from our mystery variant, hilarity and high jinks ensue as Loki picks the pocket of a distracted Mobius and secures the release of his bonds. In so doing, however, Loki discovers that the TVA is a far more formidable adversary than he surmised. As the edges of his newest predicament peel away to reveal a hint of truth about the multiverse, Loki begins to understand that his fate is in jeopardy, and the only way to preserve his existence upon any timeline within the cosmos may be in cooperation with Mobius and the Time Variance Authority.
From the ominous tone of the opening theme and enigmatic title card, to the concept of rigid techno-bureaucracies hidden in the void betwixt time and space, Loki is one of those rare programs wherein I found myself immediately enthralled by the production. What’s more, I was surprised how quickly I found myself sympathetic to the character of Loki. At the start of the episode, he’s gearing up to run his game on a handful of Mongolian locals, and I could feel the force of my eyes rolling back into my skull. In the next moment he’s yeeted out of his timeline by a gang of TVA, and treated as a mere cosmic afterthought by far too chipper automatons and smiling, button-down bureaucrats. There is no love lost between the US justice system and me, and I felt myself immediately on a proxy defensive. There is no feeling more frustrating than wanting to plead your case and knowing in your bones that you’ve been wronged, all the while you’re moved about by dispassionate agents who will only ever see you as another number that has to be accounted for. Perhaps you’re given an opportunity to speak - what then? Well, there are fees and forms aplenty in your future, if that’s an opportunity you’d like to exercise, and thus begins a new cycle of pencil-pushing nightmares. Seeing this all play out for our raven-haired friend all but had me screaming and directly on his side, guilty or no.
The first episode of Loki is made even more interesting by the slow revelation that the TVA does indeed exist on a plane that is wholly separate from the reality that Loki knows, and that his previous concepts of power mean little. In a scene that follows Loki’s recovery of the Tesseract, he briefly takes a TVA employee hostage and discovers he’s got an entire drawer full of Infinity Stones. “We actually get a lot of those,” the fellow explains. “Some of the guys actually use them as paperweights.” Loki is stunned. Near vacant, he wonders aloud, “Is this the greatest power in the universe?” I felt genuinely bad for the guy as he realizes that the one thing that justified his existence means nothing to anyone.
What a kick in the head, man.
In what is a moment of almost unbearable weight, Loki returns to the Time Theater. In an unknown corner of existence, it’s the only place of familiarity to him, and the loneliness portrayed by Hiddleston here is near tangible. Left to his own devices, Loki plays a recording of his own death at the hands of the Mad Titan Thanos. It was a brutal enough scene when it occurred within Infinity War, and to experience it in a detached third-person supplies a nauseating effect. In the final moments of the episode, Loki comes to accept that he cannot return to his own time, and he confides to Mobius that he understands his own actions to be motivated by desperation. Here at last, we’ve begun to meet the real man behind the mythical God of Mischief. And it is also here that Mobius makes his own confession in that the fugitive that has been eluding them is none other than a variant of Loki himself. This scene works beautifully juxtaposed against the previous melancholy - Loki’s own self involvement takes urgent precedence, and all sense of concern is replaced by curiosity.
In the span of the show’s 51 minute runtime the aforementioned themes of loneliness, desperation, and misguided sense of purpose are all green flags for me, but what struck me most was the idea of an agency held hostage or - in Loki’s case - an agency that may never have existed. Mobius implies that Loki’s only purpose was to “cause pain and suffering …all so that others can be the best version of themselves.”
Those of you familiar with my work will know that I’m eternally fascinated by myth and story, be they from works of modern literature or religion. Within the latter, I’ve always held close the story of Judas Iscariot. Ultimately a villain, his name is synonymous with deceit and betrayal. By giving away the game on the Nazarene in the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas played his part to the tune of thirty silver pieces which - canonically speaking - was necessary to propel the Crucifixion and subsequent Salvation of Mankind.
Where, though, does that leave the agency of Judas?
Both Loki and Judas fall into an unfortunate paradox of agency vs preordained villainy, and that to me is one of the most cruel and underhanded fates to fix upon a person. Interestingly, and in a wonderful instance of synchronicity, comics writer Jeff Loveless published a four-part miniseries entitled Judas, which explores these themes within a wider context that we shan’t divulge here; however, Loveless’s work extends to Rick and Morty, as well as Antman and the Wasp: Quantumania and Avengers: The Kang Dynasty. I can only assume that Loki will make an appearance in the latter film which will close this synchronistic loop quite nicely, much to the delight of myself and my good friend, Dr. Carl G. Jung.
Loki’s first installment ends with the same TVA goons that first apprehended Loki receiving a proper beatdown at the hands of what is alleged to be our Big Bad. They’ve left a trap for our friends from the TVA in the midst of 1858 Oklahoma - a time machine from the year 3000 meant to suggest a greedy traveler hoping to strike it rich in a yet undiscovered oil field. To their surprise, the TVA crew find themselves beaten, stabbed, and set ablaze in order for our villain to collect their reset charges. You almost feel a sense of vindication on behalf of Loki, but it’s apparent that this villain is of singular focus, ramping up their use of violence. In this it seems unclear that even Loki will be able to stop themselves, and it does beg the question: when has Loki ever been able to stop himself?
Fans of the current MCU phases may not appreciate Loki in the same ways that I did. It possesses nowhere near the same level of bombast or spectacle, though it is visually arresting, leaning heavily into color and lighting to accent Loki’s emotional journey throughout the narrative. Autumn Durald Arkapaw worked as cinematographer on the production, and she was remarkably successful in her aim to pay visual homage to films such as Ridley Scott’s Bladerunner and Alien, as well as films like Metropolis from Fritz Lang and Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. The show’s score is equally immersive and operatic, brought to life by composer Natalie Holt. Her utilization of the theremin especially held my attention, and it seemed a fitting voice to the overall sci-fi dystopian vibe. There is no one aspect of this television program that outshines the other, and the performances from its cast contrast beautifully against the backdrop of light and sound.
Writing this article from the position of having already seen how this story plays out is both advantageous and problematic. I would love the opportunity to speculate and cast predictions, as that sort of writing is nigh limitless in its capacity for entertainment; however, I’m enjoying the manner in which reflection over the material allows me to think and to explore, and to find the meaning that the Center of Knowhere so vehemently seeks. Perhaps it’s true then that we should not discount the minutiae of seemingly monotonous detail that bring our characters to their high points. If every thought and action sets in motion a new branch along an ever growing Sacred Timeline, who am I to judge their value? And more importantly, is there some temporal agency or omniscient Time-Keeper out there making these judgments on my behalf?
I suppose only time may tell.