Last time, I waxed poetic about the sheer delight that the concept of the TVA elicited, delving into its functionalities, nomenclature, and how seamlessly it wove into the fabric of a binge-worthy streaming series. Episode two of Loki, aptly titled "The Variant," further embroiders this narrative tapestry with cunning finesse.
The cliffhanger from the previous chapter set the stage: a rogue Loki variant on the loose, necessitating our mischievous protagonist's capture mission. As we dive into this new chapter, the stakes are immediately palpable as TVA agents, dispatched to a quaint Renaissance faire in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, circa 1985, are meticulously eliminated within the shadows of a dark tent by a cloaked prankster wielding emerald magic and razor-sharp blades.
Our Loki's maiden field operation leads him straight to the heart of this enigmatic confrontation, but it's hardly a traditional mission. Rather, it serves as a canvas for him to test the limits of his newly acquired freedoms, a rebellious brushstroke against the constraints of his former self.
Audiences, accustomed to Loki's antics, witness yet another attempt at subterfuge, vital to Hiddleston's character arc as he relapses into old habits only to be thwarted. This dual revelation is poignant: firstly, it underscores the TVA's unexpected proficiency, transcending the stereotype of bumbling bureaucrats; secondly, it underscores the inadequacy of past tricks, forcing Loki to confront the cyclical nature of his existence where escape from old ways proves elusive amidst the allure of new opportunities. Familiar? Undoubtedly, yet therein lies the charm—a meta-narrative unfolding, as we watch this trickster god struggle and stumble, forever hounded by his own mischievous shadow.
The opening scene's employment of the hood, shrouding the antagonist's visage in mystery, is a storytelling trope as old as time, one that I relish with each reincarnation. Recall its dramatic unveiling in Avengers: Infinity War, revealing the repentant Red Skull guarding the Soul Stone on Vormir. While that revelation lacked the desired impact due to the moral grayness of a reformed Nazi, the current episode's climax triumphantly echoes this technique, executing it with far greater finesse and surprise.
Whispers abound, comparing this series to Loki taking a dip in the timestream-traversing waters of Doctor Who. With its time-hopping antics and adventure-laden narrative, the comparison is indeed apt. Personally, I find the TVA's dynamic more akin to The Umbrella Academy's enigmatic Commission, but it's undeniable that these stories, each with their unique flair, occupy a similar cosmic playground, stylistically intertwined.
One aspect that struck me as a subtle yet playful nod to the renowned time-traveling Doctor was particularly intriguing. As the variant Loki casually slips off her hood amidst the flickering glow of a Roxxcart department store, we're unexpectedly greeted by the radiant, bob-haired visage of Sophia Di Martino. This reveal, hot on the heels of last week's discourse on Loki's gender fluidity (albeit a fleeting glimpse), sparked joy, but what truly captivated me was the uncanny resemblance Di Martino bore to the Doctor's current embodiment, Jodie Whittaker. Granted, their attire differed vastly, yet the disheveled locks shared a similar hue and length, painting a striking parallel.
Whittaker's ascension to the role of the Doctor ignited a media frenzy, marking a historic milestone as a traditionally male character was brought to life by a woman for the very first time. This mirror image echoes in Di Martino's portrayal of a distinct Loki iteration, adorned with the Asgardian's iconic crown, albeit battered and with a lone broken horn. Thematically, Loki and the Doctor are kindred spirits, their essences intertwined once their trickster personas are immersed in a narrative that hinges on continuity. The Doctor, a rogue accountable solely to their conscience, often embarks on perilous, intricate schemes to fulfill personal aspirations, mirroring Loki's path, albeit with a more self-serving agenda that has plagued him across various MCU iterations.
This resonance stems from the comics' rich tapestry, where the fractured left horn specifically harks back to another Loki iteration, renowned for inhabiting others' bodies. In the 2014 series 'Loki: Agent of Asgard,' a youthful, revamped Loki endeavors to expunge his predecessor's misdeeds for the sake of Asgard, grappling with both his troubled past and the inherent conflict of being a trickster deity, forever cast as the antagonist to his noble brother, Thor.
The concept of pitting these dual Lokis against each other is ingeniously devised, yet another layer of allusion dawned on me. The episode hints at the TVA's relentless pursuit of countless Loki variants spanning eons, each unique in their abilities and specialties. Amidst the comedic portrayal of a hulking, shirtless variant, our Loki excels in duplication magic, a fact he proudly expounds upon. However, the Di Martino Loki they chase wields enchantment magic, a skillset that, though not exclusive to Loki, adds depth to his repertoire, as evidenced by his enchantment of Hawkeye in 2012's 'Avengers.'
But as Di Martino's hood fell away, a memory surfaced—of another Asgardian adept in enchantment magic. Blonde, fond of emerald hues, she goes by the name of Amora, the Enchantress, a connection that further enriches this intricate tapestry of myth and magic.
I've previously delved into the captivating approach employed by these Disney+ series in adapting Marvel's source material, and this instance is no exception. The concept of a female Loki antagonist, who doubles as a cunning reimagining of the Enchantress and slyly nods to the Thirteenth Doctor, is a delightful twist. Furthermore, it opens up the intriguing possibility of a vastly more compelling narrative trajectory for the Enchantress character, assuming that's indeed the role Di Martino embodies here.
The Enchantress's comic book counterpart, unfortunately, tends to falter under close examination; she's portrayed as vain and petty, tasked not with tormenting Thor but with eliminating his beloved Jane Foster. Inevitably, rooted in the romantic conventions of 1960s comics, the Enchantress finds herself embroiled in her own romantic aspirations towards Thor, a recurring theme that fuels her relentless scheming to capture his heart. Early Thor comics were rife with such depictions of women, where even the formidable warrior maiden Sif and the Valkyrie, at one point, pined for Thor's affections.
So, is this incarnation of Loki truly the Enchantress in disguise? It's a question shrouded in ambiguity. Sometimes, these elements are mere visual nods; at other times, they signify something deeper. Regardless, Di Martino brings a sense of purpose and prowess to the character, mirroring the intensity exuded by the various actors portraying the role as Loki fleetingly possesses their bodies. This Loki is no mere trickster seeking to ensnare a man's heart; as she assertively declares in the episode, she has far more pressing matters to attend to.
