New Zealand has this weird, specific knack for making the supernatural feel like a massive inconvenience. It's not all sweeping vistas and epic rings. Sometimes, it’s just five blokes in a messy flat in Auckland trying to figure out why they can’t find their socks. The Almighty Johnsons is basically what happens when you take the grandeur of Norse mythology and shove it into the body of a hungover Kiwi.
I remember watching the pilot back in 2011. It starts with Axl Johnson, the youngest brother, turning 21. Most people get a yard glass or a bad tattoo for their 21st. Axl gets told he’s the reincarnation of Odin, the All-Father. Honestly, he’s a bit of a loser at the start, so the irony hits hard. His brothers? They’re gods too. But they’re "gods lite." They have the powers, but they’re diluted, frustrated, and stuck in a suburban purgatory until Odin finds his Frigg. If they don’t find her, they all die. Talk about high stakes for a guy who just wants to drink beer and chase girls.
The Problem With Being a God in Auckland
The brilliance of The Almighty Johnsons isn't in the CGI battles. There aren't many. It’s in the mundane reality of divine existence. Imagine being Thor—renamed Ty in this world—and being the god of thunder, but you spend your days as a refrigeration mechanic because you’re constantly cold. It’s a genius bit of character writing. Dean O'Gorman plays Anders (Bragi, the god of poetry), and he’s a sleazy PR agent. Of course he is. Who else would the god of poetry be in the 21st century?
James Griffin and Rachel Lang, the creators, did something really smart here. They bypassed the usual "chosen one" tropes. Usually, when a character finds out they are a god, there’s a training montage and a cape. Here, there’s a lot of swearing and a trip to the pub.
The show ran for three seasons on TV3 in New Zealand and eventually found a cult following on Syfy in the States and Netflix globally. But it always felt like it was teetering on the edge of being forgotten, which is a crime. It’s got that specific "Kiwi Gothic" humor—dry, self-deprecating, and occasionally very dark. You’ve got the Maori influence clashing with the Norse pantheon, and the show doesn’t shy away from the fact that these Viking gods are essentially colonizers in a land that has its own ancient spirits.
Why the Mythology Actually Works
Most American shows treat mythology like a superhero skin. The Almighty Johnsons treats it like a family curse.
Take Mike, the eldest brother. He’s Ullr, the god of games and the hunt. In the show, this means he literally cannot lose a game. Sounds great, right? Wrong. It makes his life a boring, predictable mess because there’s no risk. He’s the "sensible" one, the de facto leader of the family, trying to keep his chaotic brothers from accidentally revealing their identities or getting killed by the rival goddess faction. Oh yeah, the goddesses. They’re led by the brothers' mother, who is Gaia. It’s a messy, dysfunctional family drama that just happens to involve the potential end of the world.
- Axl (Odin): The reluctant leader who grows from a boy to a man.
- Mike (Ullr): The anchor who pays the bills and hates his "gift."
- Anders (Bragi): The charismatic mess who uses his silver tongue for all the wrong reasons.
- Ty (Thor): The tragic figure who just wants to be warm.
- Olaf (Baldur): The grandfather (reincarnated in a younger body) who is a perennially stoned oracle.
It’s a tight cast. The chemistry feels lived-in. When they sit around the table in their kitchen, you believe they’ve been annoying each other for decades.
The Female Pantheon and the Stakes
It wasn't just a "boys' club" show. The introduction of the goddesses changed the dynamic completely. They weren't just love interests; they were antagonists, allies, and complex figures with their own agendas. The search for Frigg—the beloved of Odin—is the engine of the plot, but it’s the collateral damage that makes it interesting.
The show handles the concept of "destiny" with a lot of skepticism. Is Axl actually Odin, or is he just a vessel? Can they break the cycle? The third season, in particular, goes deep into the lore of the Yggdrasil and the cost of godhood. It gets heavy. But it never loses that smirk.
Why It Still Matters in 2026
We are currently drowned in big-budget fantasy. We have Rings of Power, House of the Dragon, and endless Marvel movies. They all feel... heavy. They’re expensive and polished. The Almighty Johnsons feels like it was made for the price of a couple of pizzas and a crate of Tui beer, and that’s its strength. It’s intimate. It’s about people you’d actually want to hang out with, even if they might accidentally cause a localized thunderstorm because they’re grumpy.
The show also represents a specific era of New Zealand television. Along with Outrageous Fortune, it proved that NZ could export high-concept stories that weren't just about sheep or hobbits. It has a soul.
If you’re tired of the "World-Ending Threat of the Week" where everything is resolved with a blue beam in the sky, this is your antidote. The stakes are personal. If Axl fails, he doesn't just lose his powers; he loses his family. That’s a much more compelling hook than "the galaxy will blow up."
Where to Watch and What to Look For
Finding it can be a bit of a scavenger hunt depending on your region, but it’s usually floating around on various streaming platforms or available for digital purchase.
When you do watch it, pay attention to the background details. The show is packed with Norse Easter eggs that aren't broadcasted with a megaphone. The names of the shops, the colors of the clothes, the specific ways the "powers" manifest in mundane tasks—it’s all there. It rewards the viewer who actually pays attention.
Getting Started With The Johnsons
Don't go into this expecting God of War. Expect Skins meets American Gods, but with more flannel shirts and Auckland rain.
- Watch the first three episodes in one go. The pilot sets the stage, but the third episode is where the rhythm of the "God of the Week" versus "The Grand Quest" really settles in.
- Ignore the low-budget VFX. It’s from 2011 on a New Zealand TV budget. The heart is in the dialogue, not the sparks coming out of someone's hands.
- Look up the Norse myths as you go. Knowing who Hod is or why the "World Tree" matters makes the twists in Season 2 and 3 land much harder.
- Listen to the soundtrack. It’s a time capsule of early 2010s Kiwi indie rock and pop that perfectly captures the "Waitakere" vibe of the show.
The show wrapped up its run after 36 episodes. While fans clamored for a fourth season or a movie for years, the ending we got is actually quite poetic. It finishes the story it set out to tell. In an era where shows get canceled on cliffhangers every week, there’s something deeply satisfying about a complete narrative arc.
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The Almighty Johnsons remains a masterclass in how to do high-concept TV on a shoestring budget. It’s funny, it’s heartbreaking, and it’s deeply, unapologetically weird. If you haven't seen it, you're missing out on the most human depiction of divinity ever put on screen.
Go find it. Start with Season 1, Episode 1, "It's a Kind of a Birthday Present." You’ll know within ten minutes if you’re in or out. But honestly? You’ll probably be in.