For the first time in a long time, an entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe feels like it maintains a voice, even if it’s more illusory than not. Jake Schreier’s “Thunderbolts*,” the 36th film in the MCU, is totally watchable. This shouldn’t be a cause for celebration.
For five years, the MCU has seemed lost at sea in the wake of the colossal success of “Avengers: Endgame.” That success has almost become the franchise’s greatest burden. Despite being a relatively neat conclusion to a decade of storytelling, the title, “Endgame,” inherently promised an ending that would never come.
Navigating the COVID-19 pandemic, the streaming era and box office flops, this franchise has been adrift for a long while as it attempted to find its footing in a post-“Endgame” world, and “Thunderbolts*” is a sign of life, if a faint one.
“Thunderbolts*” follows a group of ragtag supporting players, including Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh), Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan), Red Guardian (David Harbour), U.S. Agent (Wyatt Russell) and Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), who join forces to take down Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), the head of the CIA, after she tries to murder some of them inside a kill box and accidentally lets loose a threat greater than any one of this motley crew is prepared to handle.
No ground is broken with “Thunderbolts*,” but it succeeds where many of its predecessors have not, simply by being well-structured and mostly competently assembled. The bar should never be this low to clear, yet after the string of consistently Frankensteined misfires over the years, this movie can’t help but function as a breath of fresh air amid a suffocating landscape of failed tentpoles.
Much in the vein of previous MCU entries, “Thunderbolts*” relies on the likability of its cast and spectacle of its plot to distract from its very generic plot about experimentation gone wrong and the end of the world. You know it all by heart. Schreier admirably injects life into the film through strong craftsmanship, with a clear vision that’s executed mostly on locations and sets, rather than in illegibly goopy CG lands, by a crew of A24 regulars, something Marvel has gone out of their way to promote.
It helps to have a cast anchored by two Academy Award nominees, where both Pugh and Stan come to play. Pugh inarguably leads the film and manages to acquit herself quite well as its temperamental center of gravity. Belova’s arc is given the most airtime and is sweetly realized by Pugh as she navigates an all-consuming loneliness in the wake of her sister, Natasha Romanoff, dying. Pugh’s deftness as an actress makes her overqualified to play out these more rote beats, but she proves her worth as a flat-out movie star in a way that these movies usually stifle.
This freedom allotted to her performance also benefits the whole ensemble, as this assortment of less remembered characters makes for a charming team. The characters’ various skill sets and powers also make for well-staged action sequences that are given proper weight, especially when each member’s personality stands tall thanks to their performers.
Stan’s presence as the longtime series veteran grounds the movie in its universe, and he brings more roguish charm to the character, even if he’s ultimately given little to do. John-Kamen is a delightful standout, reprising her role as the misunderstood villain from “Ant-Man and the Wasp,” and Lewis Pullman’s Bob rounds out their team as a mysterious figure who drives the thematic conceit of the movie, something shocking to see with Marvel.
Schreier and his writers, Joanna Calo and Eric Pearson, smartly identify a throughline between all these characters and exploit it for mostly effective dramatic tension throughout. Each character is dealing with some form of depression, isolation or grief as they reckon with their less-than-savory pasts as killers and criminals. Bob’s powers, which are best left for the movie to reveal, are particularly attuned to this pain, and Pullman lends this character a vulnerability and appeal that does the movie wonders. This is also where it falters.
That it’s impressive to see a Marvel movie explore depression shouldn’t be something to take note of, especially not when every line dealing with it reads like a Saturday morning PSA. The cast does a great job conveying their characters’ turmoil wordlessly, but there’s an immaturity in the scripting that renders any meaningful exploration of heavier topics null and sounds more like the children’s show “Bluey” than anything profound.
It helps that Schreier creatively realizes some of these internal battles with set pieces evoking the more surreal likes of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” or “Everything Everywhere All at Once.” Yet, where those movies had artistic freedom as independent works, “Thunderbolts*” is held back by obligations to its larger corporate franchise, beholden to set up the chessboard for the next five years of “Avengers” movies. Hence the cheeky little asterisk.
Despite being a step above its predecessors, “Thunderbolts*” still can’t manage to break out of its confines as a cookie-cutter entry in an inert franchise, though Schreier and his crew try. This couldn’t be any more clear than in a post-credits scene that ultimately says less than it tries to, yet sets the stage for an uncertain future. The Marvel train keeps rolling on.
“Thunderbolts*” is now in theaters everywhere.
