Fortunately for all members of the human race stupid enough to want to continue existing in a world where any of this shit is possible - and unfortunately for the rest of us - the narcoleptic doofus hero and his somehow even dumber sidekick lab partner happen to have a wicked set of invincible magic power armor lying around, and they're not afraid to use it. Really, really not afraid. Too dumb to use it? Oh absolutely. To do anything, really. Afraid? Apparently not. See, there's this top secret military skunkworks advanced world-changing super weapons R&D project, and it--wait, they just let them pick it up off that glorified TV tray and walk out the front door wearing it whenever they want? That can't even be...did he just go out back to take a piss in the amazing highly-classified power armor? Well fuck.
NUH UH, MOM SAID IT WAS MY TURN TO DRIVE THE GETAWAY CAR So how does this incredible future tech of 2.T0m0rr0w work? Take a fucking guess. If we've learned anything about science from doing this column, it's that every single phenomenon, discovery, and force of nature in the universe revolves around magnets, and anyone who claims otherwise is either an idiot or lying sonofabitch. Splitting the atom? Just a fancy term for magnets getting rubbed together really fast. Apocalyptic climate shift? Polarity fucked up by magnets. Ghost holocaust? Magnets. Time-traveling pro wrestlers giving man-birth to laser babies? Magnets. Well, magnetic lasers. Japanese tentacle monsters snapping skyscrapers in half like Nilla wafers? Probably pissed off by magnets (and also possibly Pearl Harbor, because let's face it, that was some serious bullshit you guys).
Seriously though, name one major scientific event or discovery in history that wasn't directly caused by or otherwise fundamentally connected to magnets. Yeah, thought so, toughass. Your ass isn't so tough when it's in a spaceship full of goopy pig aliens hurtling toward the sun because the magnets ran out, huh? Magneto is the best X-Men for a reason, and just take a guess why that is (don't you dare say Cerebro). There are only 2 types of things in the universe when it comes right down to it: magnets, and metal. Metal is food to magnets, and to metal, magnets are Darth fucking Vader, effortlessly whipping them across the room with magic invisible force-y powers like it was nothing.
Somehow this all has something to do with Norse mythology, and since Odin and Thor are apparently too lazy to get off their Asgards and stop the evil pretentious cosplayer cult, they decide to do the next best thing: blast some nerd in the gut with a billion volts of surprise super powers. It's almost like they're selling seats in the pantheon of Norse mythology door-to-door like one of those crappy cold-calling girlscout religious cults that hook batteries to your nards to measure your soul power or whatever. Odin's Witnesses: have you heard the good Rune?
And lo, a hero is born. A really, really crappy hero. With a half-finished rubber muscle-bib just barely clinging to his useless, doughy torso. In case you're wondering what his amazing superpowers are, let us save you the trouble - this is pretty much all he does:
Meanwhile, the mysterious and sinister Mr. Anime ravenously chews his way through scene after agonizing scene, followed closely by his delightful bandleader Friar Suck and their cult-posse of fat idiotic leather-clowns who mostly just stand around but then sometimes also do things like this. Their would-be human sacrificee is a girl who's in the movie proper for about 5 seconds of intense creepification at the hands of the King of Anime (a.k.a. Tall, Pasty, and Ugly as Freyja's Armpit), then never shows up again, despite having a whole scene devoted solely to developing her nonexistent and totally superfluous character and her relationship with her dad (who also isn't in the movie). Yep.
The painfully stupid back-and-forth dance of near-confrontation continues, some dragons get summoned, some murders get did, some ketchup gets squirted, this horrible monster appears, and yadda yadda yadda, the ultimate showdown between good and evil blah blah blah why is this still going.
Fool! You dare interrupt my twelfth vodka gimlet?!
The hero finally, mercifully saves the day when - after being brought to his knees in a shootout that took place at a range of about two feet - he clumsily grabs at the super power artifact and limpwrists it like an 8-year-old softball pitcher, dropping it lightly on the floor. The artifact, being a relic whose awesome power mortal man cannot even begin to imagine, obviously breaks and disintegrates as soon as it touches the floor, making the evil bitch lady and her fairly chill dragon bro instantly explode. The end. No really, that's the end. Our hero gets the girl and the Norse god equivalent of a locker room ass-slap* for no apparent reason, and decides to stay on Earth and keep "helping" us because we totally want him to do that as opposed to, say, dying forever and going to imaginary viking hell to suffer the agony of watching Anime Guy act out all his favorite parts of all his favorite movies for eternity. Oh, speaking of gods, here's what those look like*:
What Adventures of Thunderstorm: Return of Thor lacks in likability, personality, and things people generally give shits about, it makes up for in crappy pre-packaged lightning bolt effects plugins, the worst acting since Keanu Reeves' Hamlet, washed out alcoholic prima donnas, and let's not forget the longest and most aggressively stupid text crawl in movie history.
We'd say that watching this movie is like auto-erotic asphyxiation - embarrassing to be caught in the act of, dangerous, kills brain cells - but that would be lying, because people seem to derive some form of pleasure from auto-erotic asphyxiation. See you next week, Følks!
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*Incidentally, it turns out that ascending to Asgard is a lot like having simultaneous strokes on both sides of your brain, which is also a lot like watching this movie. So I guess we're gods now. Severely and permanently disabled gods. We want to give a shoutout to Thor, our man the All-Father, Yggdrasil for keepin' it real, Nardil, Benadryl, Golan the Insatiable, and Jaimdall the Jorrible for always being there for us when we needed help strangling a bear. May Odin be with you always, except maybe when you're on the can, because that might be weird.
And you thought women had one-dimensional script intros that treated them like sex objects. Ewoks have it even worse.
No one seems to like the new Doom box art. But it's still the same old Doom Guy under that space marine helmet. Right?
Something Awful reviews the absolute worst movies out there. We focus mostly on horror and science fiction, because all writers here on Something Awful are huge nerds.