Rated PG-13

Across the years, through characters like the Hulk, The Thing, Juggernaut, and countless others—including, of course, Thor—Marvel has taken great pains to teach the emotionally underdeveloped of the world that indiscriminate, anger-based smashing is bad, while focused, well-intentioned smashing is good. 

As welcome as this insight may be to preschool teachers and babysitters everywhere, it’s not exactly the making of Shakespearean-level drama. So, all the more curious that infamously Bard-centric director Kenneth Branagh (“Hamlet,” “Love’s Labour’s Lost”) adopts the theme in “Thor.” His attraction to the material, in which a family of immortal royals oversee the nine realms of the galaxy (and who, incidentally, inspired an entire barbarian mythology in Norway on a brief visit to Earth a millennium ago), may be attributable to the necessity for the characters to cope with a range of distractions including war, hubris, jealousy, honor and questionable paternity. 

And in fact, though rendered down to a suitably comic booky four-color form, many of the undercurrents of “Thor”  do evoke some notable Shakespearean works, such as “Henry V” and “King Lear.”

Turns out, Odin (Anthony Hopkins), the Allfather, first son of the universe and king of pretty much everything that exists, is growing weary. After 1,000 years spent clobbering some peace out of an evil realm of blue Frost Giants, he could really use a good nap and would like nothing more than for one of his sons to take control of his kingdom of Asgard. 

Unfortunately, Odin’s first born, Thor (Chris Hemsworth), God of Thunder, is, as strapping well-hewn warriors go, an arrogant, snot-nosed brat, and his second boy, Loki (Tom Hiddleston), is a conniving little sneak who just makes trouble for everyone. Neither seem quite worthy to protect the peace or withstand the weight of the crown, but the king is in a position to concede. He comes within one word of handing the keys to Thor, when the discovery of a covert Frost Giant incursion into the palace’s armory sends his hot-headed thunder-god son, against direct orders, off to hammer some answers out of their opponents.

On Thor’s return from this world-shaking, peace-breaking melee, Odin lays down some tough, Allfather-knows-best love. He exiles Thor to walk among the mortals of Earth, stripped of all his god-like powers—most significantly, his magical star-forged war hammer—until he can learn to shut up, play nice, and say please and thank you when someone makes him breakfast.

And that’s when the real fun begins. As most parents know, a good grounding is supposed to be a little humiliating, and watching Thor’s transformation from gold-plated, Viking quarterback to humble, plaid-shirted redneck is actually quite enjoyable. As he bumps around a tiny desert town in New Mexico, slowly figuring out his new limitations and the value of using his inside voice, the “fish-out-of-water” gag rolls out in a remarkably natural way. Encountering a team of scientists who witnessed his fall to Earth, as well as a crew of government operatives hell-bent on solving the mystery of the unmovable hammer that followed him from the sky (leaving a crater the size of Fenway Park), Thor proves he’s still sculpted like Rodin’s Adam, with lightning in his eyes and pectorals made of thunder. It’s not a long reach to believe this creature just may be the first descendant of a deity on high. 

The fact that the rain still follows him around like a loving puppy is also a nice touch. His attempts to make his way as an average Joe are light, funny, and build a welcome counterpoint to all the bombast of life in Asgard. The transitions between worlds, which easily could have been a schizophrenic nightmare, are handled with great balance.

Branagh never loses sight of the fact that this is a comic book movie. Much as a return to the tone of Marvel’s last really big superhero hit, “Iron Man,” he keeps the pace and action up and allows the charisma of his cast to ferry things along. Chris Hemsworth’s Thor is something of a broadsword compared to Robert Downey Jr.’s rapier-like Tony Stark, but his deadpan comic timing and perfectly deployed smirks hit the nail every time. 

Tom Hiddleston brings a lean and hungry edge to the legendary mischief-maker Loki, managing never to fall into the traps of traditional villainy, and occasionally defying even his own rules in his quest to simply sow a little chaos into the tapestry.

However, some of the other characters are not realized quite so well. Anthony Hopkins, once regarded as one of his generation’s finest actors, seems to have fallen into a haze of half-baked, wise-old-father roles (see “Wolfman,” “Beowulf” and “Legends of the Fall,” to name a few). He virtually sleepwalks his way through every line he delivers, until, toward the middle of the film, he actually falls asleep. 

Academy Award winner Natalie Portman (“Black Swan”) is way overqualified to play the no-nonsense astrophysicist who goes to butter every time Thor tosses her a glance. And, as entertaining as Kat Dennings (“Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist”) is as her smart-aleck intern sidekick, the two could easily have been kneaded together into a stronger romantic lead.

Speaking of which, the love story between the fallen god and rising scientist, which builds over maybe 48 hours, is never really sold. Our main man here, developmentally stunted as he may be, is at least 1,000 years old, nearly invincible, imbued with divine, celestial powers, and is heir to the throne of a galactic empire. She, college degree notwithstanding, enjoys eating cereal and looking at stuff from great distances. One can only postulate that if Dad found out about this affair, surely Thor would once again be sent to his room without supper. 

These are weak, geeky complaints, it must be said, about a film that so succeeds at being good hammer-dumb fun. It’s highly probable that Marvel godfather Stan Lee’s dad, who certainly spent some effort encouraging his boy to be generous, tip his waitresses, and only smash things in the name of good, would approve.