The smog-choked streets of Edda, Norway, set the stage for Ragnarok (2020), a series that dares to ground Norse mythology in the gritty reality of climate change and corporate malfeasance. Created by Adam Price and Emilie Lebech Kaae, this Netflix original isn’t your typical fantasy epic. Instead, it’s a coming-of-age story wrapped in the trappings of myth, a narrative that finds its power not in grand battles but in the quiet desperation of a town on the brink.

The series centers around Magne Seier (David Alexander Sjøholt), an unassuming teenager who discovers he is the reincarnation of Thor. His awakening comes as Edda suffers from unseasonably warm winters and violent downpours, symptoms of industrial pollution caused by the Jutul family’s factories. The Jutuls, it turns out, are not mere mortals but jötnar—supernatural beings from Norse mythology posing as a powerful clan. This premise alone sets Ragnarok apart from other mythological adaptations. It isn’t content to rehash ancient tales; it uses them as a framework to explore contemporary issues.

The show’s strength lies in its ability to balance the fantastical with the mundane. Edda becomes a microcosm of the world’s environmental crises, and the Jutuls serve as a metaphor for unchecked corporate power. The series doesn’t shy away from its political undertones, using Norse folklore to critique real-world problems. This approach makes Ragnarok more than just escapist entertainment; it’s a wake-up call disguised as a fantasy drama.

The performances are a cornerstone of the series’ success. Sjøholt brings a relatable awkwardness to Magne, making his journey from ordinary teen to mythic hero feel authentic. His portrayal captures the confusion and fear of a young man thrust into a role he never asked for. Jonas Strand Gravli, as Laurits Seier—Magne’s half-brother and the reincarnation of Loki—adds a layer of complexity with his charismatic yet unpredictable performance.

The Jutul family is equally compelling. Herman Tømmeraas and Theresa Frostad Eggesbø play Fjor and Saxa, the high-school-aged “children” of the Jutul clan, with a chilling mix of arrogance and vulnerability. Their dynamic is one of the series’ standout elements, blending familial tension with mythological weight. Henriette Steenstrup as Turid Seier delivers some of the show’s most affecting scenes, her maternal warmth clashing with the chaos unfolding around her.

The supporting cast adds depth to the narrative. Odd-Magnus Williamson as Erik Eidsvoll, a high school teacher and Magne’s stepfather, brings gravitas to his role, while Eli Anne Linnestad as Wenche—whose real identity is Völva—adds an element of mystery. The series also introduces new reincarnated gods in its second season, including Iman Reza (Danu Sunth) as Freyja and Benjamin Helstad as Týr, expanding the mythological scope.

Visually, Ragnarok excels in its depiction of environmental decay. The smog-filled streets, polluted rivers, and dying flora create a sense of urgency that permeates every frame. The show’s cinematography underscores the tension between nature and industry, using stark contrasts to highlight the town’s struggle.

However, the series stumbles when it strays from its intimate focus. The second season’s expansion to include more reincarnated gods feels rushed, diluting the tension built in the first year. Some mythological elements—like Laurits’ portrayal of Loki—lack depth, reduced to broad strokes rather than nuanced exploration.

The action sequences, while visually impressive, often fall flat. The CGI-heavy climax of Season 1 lacks the weight and artistry seen in other mythological adaptations like American Gods. The score, while atmospheric, leans too heavily on familiar Norse motifs without adding enough originality. This reliance on tried-and-true musical themes sometimes undermines the show’s attempts to carve out its own identity.

By its third season, Ragnarok struggles to sustain its momentum. The mythology becomes convoluted, and the stakes feel artificially inflated. The show’s best moments return to its roots: Magne’s personal struggles, the Jutuls’ moral dilemmas, and the town’s fight against ecological destruction. These elements ground the narrative in a way that grand battles and mythic revelations cannot.

In the end, Ragnarok is a flawed but fascinating experiment. It’s at its best when it embraces its modest scale, using Norse mythology as a lens to examine real-world issues. The series isn’t for those seeking epic battles and high-stakes drama; it’s for viewers who appreciate a slower burn, a story that finds its power in the personal rather than the spectacular.

Ragnarok is a series that asks difficult questions about our relationship with the environment and the consequences of unchecked power. It uses myth to explore these themes, but it never loses sight of the human element.