Is it possible to distill audience apathy toward superheroes into one single movie? Apparently, it is, for such is the case with Thunderbolts*.
With the recent release of Marvel Studios’ 36th film, one can’t help but feel blasé about the cinematic universe’s trite stories. A group of misfits banding together to save the day? Characters struggling to overcome their pasts? The constant use of humor to pander to younger generations? We’ve seen all that for the umpteenth time, and it’s dialed up to eleven here.
Thunderbolts* starts with Yelena Belova/Black Widow (Florence Pugh) monologuing about her own emptiness and loneliness. She feels adrift and bored, leading her to dispatch enemies early on with complete indifference. Yelena soon joins forces with John Walker/U.S. Agent (Wyatt Russell), Ava Starr/Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), Alexei Shostakov/Red Guardian (David Harbour), and Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier (Sebastian Stan), forming a new dysfunctional team. Their goal is to stop Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), the in-universe CIA director who is facing impeachment, from recruiting a test subject she thought was dead.
The mysterious, mild-mannered man named Bob Reynolds (Lewis Pullman) may appear normal, but something feels off about him. It’s later revealed Bob has two distinct personalities: the heroic Sentry, a Superman-like persona, and the villainous Void, who turns his victims into shadows and forces them to relive their worst memories and deepest regrets. The dichotomy between the two alter egos is a metaphor for mental instability, the film’s larger theme.
But Thunderbolts* is a superficial, schizophrenic look at mental illness and depression. It’s superficial because such serious topics are simply resolved with empathy or physical touch, trivializing what some viewers may suffer themselves. And it’s schizophrenic because the film’s darker themes are repeatedly undermined by comedic one-liners, preventing audiences from fully connecting with the characters. There’s no deep profundity; just shallow banality.
Most of the characters are uninteresting. Considered the de facto lead of the movie, Yelena gets the most character development but doesn’t carry the gravitas required for the role. Bucky should ideally be the hero on which the movie hinges, but he gets sidelined to give screentime to other characters. The end result is a bloated mess without any meaningful character arcs, with maybe one exception.
Bob was easily the standout character, as both a hero and a villain. The film deals with an interesting concept – whether a mentally unstable, emotionally scarred person should have godlike superpowers – which Pullman’s performance conveyed well. This kernel of a good idea, however, was buried underneath the usual Marvel fare.
Continuing the trend of many cinematic misfires from Marvel Studios, Thunderbolts* manages to be one of the most bland superhero flicks in recent years. While it may not be objectively bad, like Captain America: Brave New World, this ensemble film becomes bogged down by the mediocre theatrical releases or Disney+ series in which the majority of these characters were introduced. This gives the impression that the film feels more like homework than entertainment, a problem that even Marvel Studios head Kevin Feige recently acknowledged.
Film critic Armond White is correct in the sense that Thunderbolts* is made for “Zoomers who were never taught about art, literature, philosophy, or cinema.” It appeals to angsty teenagers who feel seen by surface-level stories tackling anxiety and depression, like an edgy high school student film. A Zoomer myself, I feel rather indifferent about this supposedly darker tale.