Thunderbolts* (2025)

Marvel’s Thunderbolts* might just be the best thing the MCU has delivered in years—not because it’s bigger, louder, or more filled with Easter eggs, but because it actually slows down and feels something. At its core, this isn’t another save-the-world blockbuster. It’s a fable for our times, landing squarely in an era where loneliness and depression are everywhere, where so many people are aching not for heroes, but for healing.

The setup is familiar in structure but fresh in tone: a group of battered, morally grey characters—Yelena Belova, Bucky Barnes, U.S. Agent, Red Guardian, Ghost, and Taskmaster—are brought together under the manipulative eye of Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. The mission? Let’s just say it’s murky, high-risk, and full of strings. But plot mechanics aside, what this film really explores is what happens when broken people are forced into proximity and have to figure out how to keep going—together.

Director Jake Schreier dials things back and focuses in. It’s less about spectacle and more about scars. These are characters who’ve been through hell, who’ve done damage and taken their hits, and who are still, somehow, stumbling forward. Florence Pugh’s Yelena is the standout here—sharp, funny, raw. She carries so much emotion in the space between her words that you sometimes forget this is a superhero movie at all. There’s one scene—a quiet, charged confrontation with her past—that lands like a punch to the chest. Wyatt Russell, too, impresses. His U.S. Agent is still rough around the edges, but there’s a vulnerability bubbling beneath the bravado that makes him genuinely compelling. David Harbour brings his usual gruff charm to Red Guardian, and Sebastian Stan’s Bucky says more with a look than most characters manage in a monologue.

The chemistry among the team is clumsy in the best way. They’re not friends. They don’t trust each other. But watching them try—through bickering, awkward silences, reluctant teamwork—it’s strangely hopeful. There’s this quiet idea running underneath the whole film: that maybe you don’t need to be fixed to be worth saving.

The visuals match the mood. Gritty, muted, almost drained of colour at times—it’s a palette that mirrors the emotional state of its characters. There’s not a lot of glossy MCU shine here, and that’s a good thing. The action scenes are sharp and grounded—practical effects get a welcome spotlight, and when things explode, they feel earned, not just noisy. There’s a brutal corridor fight halfway through that’s more intense and personal than most CGI-heavy third acts. And Son Lux’s score? Haunting, offbeat, and perfectly tuned to the film’s emotional undercurrent. It lingers in the background like a ghost, quietly shaping how you feel without you realising it.

Now, it’s not flawless. The first act is a bit sluggish—there’s too much time spent assembling the team before the emotional engine really kicks in. And while the core characters are given space to breathe, Ghost and Taskmaster get sidelined. There’s clearly more to explore with them, and it’s frustrating to see that potential left hanging.

Still, the ending pulls everything together in a way that feels both earned and open-ended. It doesn’t tie every knot or force a false sense of resolution. Instead, it lets the characters be—messy, uncertain, but trying. And that feels right. Because Thunderbolts doesn’t pretend trauma can be wrapped up in a neat arc. It just says: keep going.

What resonated most with me wasn’t the action or the twists, but the aching humanity of it all. Watching people who’ve been labelled as villains or weapons or broken things reach for connection—it hits deep. It reminds you that sometimes the most heroic thing someone can do is show up, admit they’re not okay, and still stand beside someone else.

If you’re burnt out on the usual Marvel formula, this is the shot in the arm you’ve been waiting for. It’s messy, moody, and full of heart—and a powerful reminder that even in a world of gods and monsters, it’s the quiet, bruised, deeply human moments that stick with you the longest.