Before gods fell and empires burned, there was only one name whispered across the winds of eternity — Asger, the First Warrior. Ragnarok: Rise of the First Warrior (2025) is not merely a prequel to the apocalypse; it is a myth reborn, a thunderous reimagining of the Norse legend told through the blazing intensity of Chris Hemsworth, the ethereal might of Gal Gadot, and the quiet gravitas of Henry Cavill. Director Erik Lehnsherr crafts a world where prophecy is both curse and challenge — and where the end of all things begins with a single act of defiance.
The film opens in an age long before Odin’s reign — when the cosmos was still raw, and the gods themselves were unshaped by time. Hemsworth’s Asger, a mortal forged by chaos and lightning, is a warrior born from the ashes of a dying realm. Cursed to live in the shadow of prophecy, he is told that his blade will one day spark the fire that ends the world. But rather than run from fate, Asger vows to face it — to wield destiny, not submit to it. His defiance is both his strength and his undoing, a flame that burns brighter than even the gods anticipated.
Enter Gal Gadot as Skara, the fallen goddess of war — an immortal betrayed by her kin and bound by vengeance. Gadot imbues Skara with a breathtaking duality: equal parts divine fury and tragic grace. Her command of the screen is chilling; every glance is thunder, every word a weapon. When she tears open the veil between worlds to unleash her immortal army, the realms descend into fire and shadow. Yet beneath her rage lies a haunting loneliness — the pain of a goddess who once fought for peace, only to become the harbinger of destruction.
Into this storm steps Henry Cavill’s mysterious guardian, Eryndor — a being from beyond the known realms, bearing the light of an ancient order. Cavill’s performance is stoic yet deeply human, his presence grounding the mythic chaos with quiet heroism. He becomes Asger’s reluctant ally, their bond forged in distrust and tested in war. Asger fights to shape his destiny; Eryndor fights to preserve it; and Skara seeks to erase it altogether. The collision of these three souls ignites the myth of Ragnarok itself.
Visually, Ragnarok: Rise of the First Warrior is a feast of creation and destruction. Every frame pulses with painterly grandeur — rivers of lava cutting through icy wastelands, citadels of gold collapsing into void, and celestial storms swirling like living gods. Director of Photography Linus Sandgren captures a world that feels both ancient and apocalyptic, drenched in myth and blood. The result is a cinematic experience that feels like a dream carved into stone — primal, poetic, and colossal in scale.
But beneath the spectacle, there lies a heart — one that beats with questions of fate, freedom, and faith. What does it mean to fight against destiny when destiny defines you? Hemsworth gives his most soul-baring performance since Rush, carrying Asger’s torment like a crown of lightning. His battles are not just against armies or gods, but against his own nature. Each strike of his blade feels like a prayer against oblivion.
The film’s middle act soars through breathtaking set pieces — the Siege of the Burning Vale, the Duel beneath Yggdrasil, and the descent into Hel’s frozen domain. Yet, it is in the quiet moments between the chaos that Ragnarok truly shines: Asger and Skara sharing stories of lost loves beneath a dying star, or Eryndor revealing that light and darkness are not enemies but reflections. These scenes bring an aching humanity to the myth, grounding the legend in emotion as fierce as any thunderstorm.
Composer Bear McCreary returns to his mythic roots, delivering a score that thunders and weeps in equal measure. The music feels like it was carved from the bones of the gods themselves — blending Nordic chants, electric strings, and echoing drums that shake the soul. Each note feels like prophecy fulfilled, every crescendo a cry of defiance against the inevitable.
As the final act unfolds, the title’s meaning reveals itself: Rise of the First Warrior is not about victory, but about creation — the birth of myth from sacrifice. Asger’s final stand against Skara’s divine fury is both terrifying and transcendent. Their battle doesn’t end Ragnarok — it begins it. When his blade splits the heavens, we understand that endings are merely beginnings written in fire.
The closing moments are haunting — silence after thunder. A single feather drifts across a battlefield of gods, and the whisper of prophecy fades: “The first warrior falls… so the world may rise.” It is both conclusion and genesis, tragedy and triumph intertwined.
🔥 Verdict: 9.4/10 — Ragnarok: Rise of the First Warrior is a myth forged in flame — epic, emotional, and breathtaking in scope. It dares to ask what comes before the end, and answers with the roar of a mortal who challenged the gods. A masterpiece of myth and man, where the first warrior’s defiance echoes through eternity.
