American Gods: Movie Review

I've come across this clip multiple times on tiktok, about a

woman whose soul isn't light as a feather. At first I had some deep self reflection and considerations of my actions. But I was curious to know what the movie talks about.

Imagine if eternity was real, there's heaven and hell where do you think your soul will go?

Have you ever stumbled upon a show that didn’t just entertain you but haunted your thoughts, echoed in your dreams, and made you question the very fabric of the world around you? That was my experience with American Gods. I didn’t go looking for it—it found me.

If you haven't watched it or maybe don't even know about it or even you have watched it, this review is for you.

It began with a casual conversation at a coffee shop. A friend leaned over her latte and whispered, “If mythology met modern madness, it would be American Gods. You’ll love it.” That sentence lingered with me like a spell. But I forgot about it by the end of the day. I was so busy with work that I forgot to even search up for it. But as months went by, it followed me, the clip found me just scrolling through Tiktok.” That sealed it. I knew I had to watch.

I wasn’t just curious, I was pulled in by an unseen force. And the moment I hit play, I realized I wasn’t just watching a show. I was stepping into a myth, into a world layered with symbolism, shadows, and strange truths.

At its most basic level, American Gods is the story of an ex-convict named Shadow Moon who is released and then finds out that his wife had been killed in a car accident. He is a lost and empty man who is recruited by mysterious and charming man Mr. Wednesday. It is a road trip all right, but it is a road trip like never before, not made of asphalt, but belief.

The series is an ancient conflict between the old gods, or those ancient gods that were worshipped by immigrants who brought them to the other side of the ocean, and the new gods, who were created by our obsession with technology, media and capitalism. It is a metaphor of what we choose to hold onto, what we would cast away, how we build our world through belief, whatever God we choose to believe in, Thor or TikTok.

The most intriguing thing to me was that the characters were not ordinary people, but ideas in human bodies. Mr. Wednesday (brilliantly played by Ian McShane) is not just a con man, but a god of war and wisdom, Odin, who is trying to find a place in the world where people are forgetting all about him. And then there is Technical Boy, a bratty god of social media, algorithms and addiction. And Media, who transforms itself now into Lucille Ball, now into David Bowie, according to what we are watching.

Even the character of Shadow Moon, who starts the story as a lost and uncertain person, turns out to be a reflection to the audience. We do not only see the gods through his eyes, but we confront them. Should we believe in them? Do they feed upon our worship--or do they take advantage of it?

The series is hypnotic to look at. All its frames are bathed in metaphor. You do not only observe a scene, you experience it. It is not the rain falling but the rain that baptizes. The blood does not only flow, it sings. You see a scene of an ordinary conversation in a motel room and the next minute you are in some abstract realm that seems more real than the real world that you just left.


It has a Lynchian quality, lives bled into one another, the weird made homelike and the homelike made horrifying. and at the center of it all, one, thumping question: What do you believe in?

The scenes of American Gods forced me to face the silent performances that I did not even suspect I had. I was on my phone scrolling? That’s worship. Verifying likes, retweets and notifications? Modern-day prayers. The series leaves you wondering whether there is a question as to who the gods of today are, given that the gods exist based on the belief of people.

It reminded me of my grandmother who would bless a cup of water and then would murmur to herself a blessing before drinking it. All actions were sacred to her. That respect is dying in our quicker, digital era. We have substituted the streams with music and prayer with playlists.

And perhaps that is what American Gods are trying to show us, that despite being convinced that we no longer hold a belief in something, belief has not ceased to influence us.

Why did I go on watching?
I cannot say that I was horrified by the blood spills and the betrayals that took place in the movie. It was the silent moments when Mr. Nancy (Orlando Jones) narrated the tale of African slaves in chains, his voice full of truth and anger; the cynical eyes of an embittered leprechaun Mad Sweeney who lost his fortune and his self; or the time when Shadow Moon stares at the heavens and wonders whether he ever had a choice.

American Gods isn’t an easy watch. It’s layered, chaotic, sometimes even confusing. But that’s exactly what makes it beautiful. It refuses to hand you meaning on a silver platter. Instead, it beckons you to dig, to feel, to confront.

American Gods may drive you nuts in case you are the type of human being who likes things simple. However, when you enjoy not only stories (which have a way of shifting your point of view) but stories that unfold gradually, like an old prophecy, then this series is just a gold mine.

Gods are not the only point; it is we. Our demons, our gods, our realities and our fictions. It puts the mirror in front of the society and challenges us not to see the surface.

And perhaps, perhaps, it can tell us that there is still magic out there; it only needs us to be courageous enough to believe it.

In the end, American Gods didn’t just entertain me—it awakened something. It made me realize that belief is power. Not just in religion or gods, but in ourselves, in others, in the stories we tell. And that sometimes, the most divine thing you can do is look at the world with wonder again.

So if you’re ready to question everything you’ve ever worshipped—watch it. But be warned: you may not walk away the same.

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