Sometimes I look back on the Infinity Saga craze and it feels like a fever dream. I used to go to every midnight release with my friends. We used to theorize endlessly about what the post-credits sequences meant and what the future would hold for these characters. There was a confidence in Marvel that they would deliver, and they did with an emotional and satisfying ending back in 2019. Those days are long gone. I haven’t seen most of the Disney+ shows, I disliked Deadpool and Wolverine, and I have missed some major releases. There was a new Captain America movie and I didn’t even watch it. That would be unthinkable for me 10 years ago. What changed? Was it the movies or was it me?
The truth is I don’t care about the new movies but a part of me misses when I used to. I think I’m still interested in the superhero genre, that’s not the issue. I love Superman and I’m very excited about James Gunn’s take on it, and I’m dying to see the conclusion of the Spider-Verse trilogy. But the latest Marvel Studios projects have fundamentally misunderstood what made me interested in them. It isn’t the action or seeing childhood heroes come alive on screen. And it also isn’t the interconnectedness, at least not by itself.
It's undeniable that there's a fast food quality to these movies. I know what I'm going to get every time, it's a safe bet, even though it comes at the expense of uniqueness. My favourite MCU movies are usually not my favourite because of the filmmaker's point of view. It's no surprise that they've been compared to a TV show, with an overarching aesthetic and tone. The directors come in simply as steady hands, with the possibility of adding some perspective as long as it doesn't clash with the vibe of what an MCU movie is supposed to feel like. That's the agreement I make with a Marvel Studio movie before watching it. I'm not expecting directing prowess. But like the best TV, I'm definitely expecting interesting writing.
There’s a scene in the new Thunderbolts movie that almost made me tear up. It’s a conversation between Florence Pugh’s Yelena and David Harbour’s Red Guardian. A daughter and a father, both full of regret, discussing if it’s possible for them to find redemption. There’s no other purpose to this scene besides communicating theme and character. No mandates of brand integration or distracting green screen. It’s a real movie scene, that looks like a real movie, with real emotions, acted by real actors.

The magic of the MCU has never been watching superheroes cross over, it has been watching characters I care about cross over. Tony Stark discussing with Steve Rogers was riveting because we understood where both characters were coming from. Thunderbolts puts in the work for me to understand most of the members. The whole conceit of the villain allows us to dig deep into their shame and darkness. It’s simple and it spells out the theme of depression very explicitly, but it’s effective. That’s all you need!
I’m so repelled by the MCU’s forced attempts at making us care by connecting brands instead of characters that a part of me was very cautious about staying for the post credits scene. Do I really need to know what brand integration is coming next? But the thing is, after spending 2 hours with these characters and having fun with their interactions, the prospect of seeing how they would react to the rest of the Marvel universe excited me. It reminded me of being thrilled about the Guardians of the Galaxy meeting the Avengers.
The new Fantastic Four film makes me cautiously optimistic, it seems cut from the same cloth as Thunderbolts: practical, character-focused, and mostly stand-alone. But there’s a menace looming in the distance: two Avengers movies with a bunch of nostalgia and many missteps to payoff. Let’s hope character-writing comes back to save us.
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