Whenever a new obsession comes up, there is almost inevitably a character in whatever book, movie, or TV show that I've either utterly fallen in love with or identify with so completely that I'll start saying things like "Oh, I'm actually Hermione," or "If I met Juno she and I would be best friends."
And a lot of these are fairly understandable. Can be explained in one line, actually. I can identify with Luna Lovegood because we're both a little out-there, a little weird, no one really "gets" us but we'll be your friend through anything. I identify with Rose Tyler because we both crave adventure and know how to grab hold of it when it comes knocking. I identify with Eowyn because we're both women who know how to live in men's worlds and aren't afraid to be strong even when it's not "ladylike." I identify with Meg because we're both outcasts who are closer to our families than our friends.
And so the story goes. From what I understand, I'm not the only one to do this, either. Hell, my friend and I do it all the time (our favorites being characters from 'On the Road' and other such lovely bits of Beatnik literature). Cosplayers do it. Fanfiction writers do it. People who just plain love the movies or books or TV shows do it. It's not uncommon.
But what do you do when you know--you know, with every fiber of your being, you don't just vaguely think it--that you are a character, and everyone takes one look at you, one look at the character you're mentioning, and just laughs it off? "Ha. No. Not you. Not even close." Or, "Oh, ok, well I could kind of see it, but you're more like [insert cliche character who is the exact opposite of you but has the same hair color/gender/occupational activity]." What then? And what if they do it so casually, cruelly even, that you're so blindsided you don't even have the wits to defend yourself?
This happened to me. Actually it's happened to me several times now. Actually, it happened to me last night. And into this morning.
So, I've seen The Avengers. I saw The Avengers last August when they showed it to us at my college for an outdoor movie night, and I loved it. I hadn't even seen most of the other movies that preceded The Avengers, and I still loved it. My favorite character? Easy--the lovable, volatile Bruce Banner. The Hulk. One of the few characters in the film that I actually recognized. (The other being Iron Man, whose film series I hated--but make no mistake, I love the character, he's hilarious.) I laughed as hard as anyone at "Puny God" and "They want me in a submerged, pressurized container?"
But there was someone new. Someone I didn't recognize. A villain, actually. The kind of villain I like because you know there's more to them than you're seeing in just that movie. You know they have a backstory. And they might be the antagonist, but you can't help but feel sympathy for them. And you can't help but like them because, well, yeah, they're bad, but they're funny.
You know, of course, who I'm speaking of by now.
Please understand, I hadn't seen Thor. I didn't know Loki's backstory, at all. I just knew he was one of my favorite villains of all time, because he was, unlike most villains, a three-dimensional character. Hell, even most of the good guys aren't as three-dimensional as he is. By the end of the film, I understood Loki better than Captain America. (That was actually sign one for me. But I didn't get that at the time; I just went "Wow, cool villain" and thought that was the end.)
But then I did see Thor. And I watched it back-to-back with The Avengers. And I realized...oh my God, he's three-dimensional to me, because I understand him, because I am like him.
Loki starts out Thor's brother, a "friendly," as S.H.I.E.L.D. would put it. But...what happens? He gets corrupted. The Chituari basically screw him over. But in his natural form, the way he was raised, the person who he was meant to be, Loki will do the right thing, period, no matter how unpopular it makes him. (Example: Thor, when Loki "tattles" to the Allfather because he knows that Thor and his warrior friends are going to bite off more than they can chew when they go to Jotunheim.)
Maybe I'm just way off. Maybe I don't know shit about it. But my perception of Loki is that he's a good guy, until he gets hit with a tidal wave of bad news mixed with responsibility that he isn't ready to handle, not by a long shot, and to make up for it he almost gets killed and gets mixed up with some really, really sketchy people who hurt him, threaten him, and then promise him a chance to shine but only if he does what they want...otherwise, his ass is grass and the Chitauri are the collective lawnmower.
Now, I'm not a Norse demi-god. I'm not adopted, my (non-existent) brother isn't the God of Thunder, I don't have magical powers, and I wasn't tortured by some power-hungry aliens who wanted me to steal government-protected technology. But there are aspects of Loki's character that I not only sympathize with, but truly empathize with. Painfully so, in some cases.
Feeling out-of-place.
Feeling unwanted.
Not wanting all the glory--just wanting to be recognized for what I've done. ("I never wanted the throne, I wanted to be your equal!")
Being trapped in someone's shadow.
Growing up thinking I'm completely aware of who I am, and then suddenly discovering that the "real" world sees me entirely differently.
The image of Loki's "Asgard" form, covering up his true "Frost Giant" form, oh my God, can we just talk about that for a hot second? That's something that I feel just about every female on the planet should identify with. The smbolism is screamingly, blatantly obvious: makeup, covering up anything that our peers deem imperfect, trying to make ourselves "acceptable" by fitting in or being more beautiful than our friends.
Speaking of Frost Giants--Loki is naturally adaptable to cold (considering, y'know, he was born on a planet of creatures who pretty much live in the fucking snow). He doesn't have a problem with cold, or snow, or frost. But if he's touched by someone who isn't used to cold, it gives them frostbite. I'm from Michigan; I grew up in ice and snow, and it doesn't bother me the way it bothers my warm weather-inhabiting counterparts. And when I run into someone who isn't used to the cold, and try to explain why it's not really that bad, the reaction I get sometimes borders on hilarious. I don't mind the cold. I actually like the snow. (My girlfriend has sometimes been known to refer to me as her polar bear or penguin.)
I love pranks, I love pulling them off but I also don't mind being the target of them, so long as they're funny and not cruel. Loki is the God of Mischief. He deals in pranks, for Pete's sake! (I won't go off on a tangent about how adorable it would've been to see Loki and Thor as kids, and Loki pranking Thor and starting prank wars with his brother and...gaaaack. I won't go on. I won't. But I could.) Mischief =/= evil. Mischief = fun, a little devious, but in the end laughable.
Loki's dumped with the responsibility of being king while his father is comatose and his brother is exiled. Okay, I haven't had that much dumped on me, but when you're an only child, you know what it's like to be saddled with responsibility before you can handle it. It's not like your parents intend to do that to you (hey, Odin didn't mean to clock out and leave Loki on his own), but it happens anyway.
Above all else, Loki is a mischievous, lively, goofy smart-ass. There are moments of his that just crack me up, and what makes me even happier is that I can see myself saying things like that. I love it when a character's sense of humor jives so well with my own. It makes it feel like that movie was made just for me. And there are plenty of characters whose humor I can appreciate--Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Thor, Phil Coulson--but Loki resonated in a way that not many characters do. Loki was someone who was just enough like me to initially grab my attention.
Loki and I are not, by any stretch, twins. Not personality-wise, and certainly not physically. (Though I'll admit I'd kill to have eyes like that. If only they made hair bleach for your irises...you know what, let's just pretend that sentence is half as disturbing as it actually is, okay?) There are plenty of little ways that we "match up." But there is one area in which we are breathtakingly similar: Emotional processing.
Have you ever seen me angry? No? Well, have you ever seen Spirited Away? I'm like No-Face. I can destroy an entire bath-house in one of my rages and then spew the most God-awful word-vomit you've ever heard. But then, an hour later, I'll find myself with the same person I was just in the process of attempting to annihilate, trying my damndest to be a good friend to them. And when I'm sad or, God forbid it, heartbroken--forget it. Try to get a sensible word out of me. It can't be done. I'm a crying, shrieking, distracted, all-over-the-place mess. Try to follow my mood from one day to the next. I dare you.
Now I'll grant you, I've never gone as far as trying to take over not one, but two planets in an attempt to make myself feel better. But I too have a destructive streak. I too have a harder time controlling myself than Bruce Banner. Watch out, Hulk. You think you're volatile? The young art-school girls of this world put you to shame. Particularly this one. No, I haven't totaled Asgardian castles or burned New York to the ground. But in my most heated moments I have destroyed friendships and said things that any sane person would be able to keep inside. That would be my inner Loki, coming out to play.
In fact I think it's one of the most interesting things about Loki, that he scorns Bruce Banner as a "monster" when really, they're extremely similar. Both Loki and Banner are ruled by emotion. The difference is that Banner admits it and at least fights to keep control of himself (jury will please note, that doesn't always work). Loki, on the other hand, insists he is unaffected by emotion when it's actually what's driving him. Think about it: his attack is entirely motivated by anger at his father and bitterness towards Thor. Loki smacks of vulnerability through Thor and volatility through The Avengers. And yet people label him as "psycho" or "sociopathic" because he's the so-called bad guy? No. Bad guy he may be (in Avengers, at least; I refuse to slap him with the title of sole villain in Thor), but he is not emotionless or cold or calculating. Everything he does is driven by an emotional reaction, either to his former family or to the threats of the Chitauri.
So, with all that said...yes, I do think I'm like Loki. A lot like him, in fact.
My friends, however, do not share this view.
In fact, two of my teachers took great delight in informing me that I'm more like Bilbo Baggins than Loki. Hmm, okay. So I remind you of a hobbit who's scared of his own shadow, steals a ring, shows his great humanity by not killing something that's very willing to kill and eat him, scares the hell out of all of his friends and basically runs out on his nephew, leaving an innocent kid with the task of destroying the most dangerous object in history? That's just wonderful.
It's not that I'm hating on Bilbo. (Okay, maybe I am. Just a little.) Chalk it down to one of those overblown emotional reactions, I suppose. It's not that I hate Bilbo, it's just that 1) I think Frodo's much more of a hero, and 2) I really don't think I'm like Bilbo, at all. He has to be forced out the door to begin his adventures and I, like Rose Tyler (as stated above), jump at the chance of any adventure that comes my way. Am I sometimes terrified of it? Well, yeah, but I never let that stop me.
Bilbo starts out timid, and that is an adjective that I have never used to describe myself. And if there's one thing I'm getting sick of, it's being firmly placed into the "Miss Muffet" category. I may be girly, but I'm not shy. And honestly, the next person to refer to me as "submissive" may actually get punched in the face.
I may not be a supervillain. (Rest assured, I have no ambition to be one, either.) There's a difference between my fascination with the darkest characters of my favorite films and literature (the name "Alex DeLarge" ring a bell?) and the true identification I feel with someone like Loki. My mother always told me I "brought home the strays." I've always "run with the mad ones." I'm a magnet, it seems, for outcasts, for people on the fringe, the ones who aren't popular in the conventional sense and wouldn't want to be anyway. I've always been drawn to them. Always.
Maybe now it's time to finally admit that I'm more like them than I used to think.
