Thunderbolts* is yet another symptom of Marvel's creative fatigue...

Hindustan Times

01-05-2025

Since Avengers: Endgame, every new Marvel project has carried the impossible task of living up to that seismic finale. Audiences waited, hoping each release would restore the universe's lost magic. But after a series of lukewarm entries and creative misfires, the anticipation has started to curdle into scepticism. Thunderbolts* could have been Marvel's big redemption play—a return to a team-up format, banking on flawed, lesser-known heroes. Instead, it proves just how far the MCU has drifted from what made it special.
The film assembles a motley crew of damaged characters, headlined by Florence Pugh's Yelena Belova, with a brooding Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan), a jaded Red Guardian (David Harbour), the not-worthy Captain America aka John Walker (Wyatt Russell), and Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), who merely exists in the film as a plot device—to open doors and drive cars. While there's potential in its premise, Thunderbolts* stumbles with an inconsistent tone, a lack of narrative coherence, and an over-reliance on emotional shorthand that never truly lands.
Led reluctantly by Yelena Belova, the film follows a group of disgraced and haunted antiheroes pulled into a covert government operation spearheaded by the enigmatic Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus). As secrets unravel, it becomes clear that de Fontaine has been running shadow ops behind the scenes, using these unstable figures as pawns. When her cover is at risk, she turns on her own team to erase all traces of her misdeeds.
Among the crew is the emotionally volatile and the out-of-place yet pivotal Bob (Lewis Pullman)—a confused, amnesiac man who becomes central to both the mission and, perhaps, the MCU's future. Betrayed and cornered, the team is forced to unite not out of camaraderie, but survival. Together, they try to outwit de Fontaine's forces while wrestling with their own demons and fractured pasts.
There's no denying the film's strongest asset is its cast. Florence Pugh brings both grit and emotional vulnerability to Yelena, grounding the team with some semblance of heart. Julia Louis-Dreyfus continues to impress as de Fontaine. Her blend of biting wit and sinister charm gives the film some much-needed edge, making her character one of the most compelling in Marvel's recent line-up.
Lewis Pullman's Bob is a standout. Yes, he played Bob in Top Gun: Maverick too. But lovely coincidences aside, he's not your standard villain—or hero—but something far more ambiguous. Lewis plays him with a touching mix of innocence and buried rage, embodying the MCU's increasing fascination with characters who defy easy categorisation. His arc offers the film's most emotionally authentic moments, often feeling like a commentary on trauma in superhero narratives.
Despite its intentions, Thunderbolts* feels burdened by the weight of what it's trying to achieve. The film juggles too many characters without giving most of them meaningful development. Bucky Barnes, for instance—arguably the most seasoned among them—is sidelined to the point of irrelevance. His arc, which had so much promise, plays more like an extended cameo than the leadership role he clearly deserved.
Tonally, the film is all over the place. It attempts to balance dark psychological themes with breezy banter and fast-paced action, but the shifts feel abrupt and forced. Serious topics like mental illness are brushed over with superficial resolutions—at one point, even suggesting emotional healing through touch. The intent may be poetic, but the execution feels rushed and reductive.
It feels as if the film suffers from Marvel's growing habit of trying to replicate old successes by forcing new characters into familiar moulds. While Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America once rose from obscurity to icon status, Thunderbolts* lacks the fresh energy that made those stories work in the first place. Instead, it feels like a patchwork of MCU leftovers trying to pose as something bold.
Thunderbolts* had all the makings of a fresh chapter in Marvel's evolving storybook—flawed heroes, moral ambiguity, political conspiracies—but it never quite pulls it together. The film tries to be profound and fun, dark yet hopeful, but in trying to be everything, it ends up being not much at all.
At its best, it hints at a darker, messier corner of the MCU. But mostly, it serves as a reminder of how risk-averse and self-referential the franchise has become. Thunderbolts* doesn't pave a new path forward—it simply spins its wheels where better films once stood.