I was excited for Thunderbolts* before the reviews even hit the internet. I liked all the principles and wanted to see their characters given more depth. I thought this film would be the perfect vehicle for that, even if I didn’t understand how the comprised roster was supposed to be thought of as villains leading into the film. I firmly had my answer by the time the credits had rolled and all the stingers had played. The film was never intended for the audience to see these characters as villains because it was never “Marvel’s version of Suicide Squad,” as so many people had predicted or stated. The film was always going to be about the thin line between heroes, real people, and what truly makes someone heroic, and it did all of that while still calling the group “Avengers with a z.”
Thunderbolts* had some pretty big challenges facing it before release. Marvel’s films have not been too great since the Infinity Saga wrapped up, and they began the Multiverse Saga. Not all of that can be blamed on Marvel, as Jonathan Majors had no business doing what he did, and the studio had no choice but to let him go. From there, Marvel had a series of in-between films that likely had to change course several times, and the final projects showed that it wasn’t a complete vision. It wasn’t until Deadpool & Wolverine that things began to turn around. While Captain America: Brave New World wasn’t bad, it put a lot of pressure on Thunderbolts* to succeed where other films had failed.
Fortunately for Marvel, the cast, script, and subject matter all came together in a way that complemented one another. The film also took a major chance that few other superhero films have tried in that it had a massive final battle in which very little damage was done to the city or the surrounding areas. In fact, outside of one or two instances, the entire thing was resolved without traditional violence. Without resorting to the ultra-cheesy form of talk-no-jutsu and talking the enemy down, the heroes were able to subdue the antagonist by simply being there for him during a mental episode.
So much of that meant everything to me as a viewer because I suffer from pretty traumatic mental issues. Existing on a day-to-day basis is no easy challenge for me and I’ve put in a lot of work to get to where I am, but I really connected with Bob Reynolds more than any other portrayal by Marvel. This wasn’t their first attempt at focusing on mental health as the primary subject matter. That honor would likely go to Moon Knight, but I thought that Thunderbolts* did it with a casualness and seriousness that made it mean something.
When you think about it, writing a final scene with no “real” action is incredibly difficult unless you’re going to rely on incredibly boring and cliche tropes that films and television use when they want to solve a fight without violence. Usually, there are long speeches about “remembering who you are” and how “this isn’t like” the person they’re trying to talk down. The film Moana came to my mind while I was sitting here and typing this scenario out. Hell, they had a song about how it wasn’t who they were to go along with the lack of fighting.
For Thunderbolts*, helping Bob was as simple as letting him know that he wasn’t alone and they would endure it all right alongside him. It was that simple because it often is that simple. So many things in mental health can at least be noticed or caught by simply being there for someone and not leaving them when they need it most. It’s easy as hell to type but nearly impossible to do. When it comes to mental health, no other tool can help save so many lives as simply being there for your friends when they need it.
The film managed to capture this simple concept, all while taking everything else about the film with half as much seriousness. By allowing these actors to simply dive into these characters and interact with one another, a genuine chemistry was formed and it showed on screen. Wyatt Russell showed us what it was like to not only play the jokester of the group, but arguably the most broken and defeated member of the group. As not only had he lost his title, his ability to serve, and his good name, but he’d also completely lost his family because he couldn’t deal with the loss of those other things.
Bucky was trying to manage existing in a world where absolutely nothing helpful gets done ever within a meaningful timeframe, versus when he was able to make an immediate change as an Avenger. Yelena Belova was broken without Natasha and felt like she could never be good enough to live up to her legacy. Her entire existence was spent at odds with a person who only ever loved her and believed that she was good enough. Now she has to deal with the guilt of that person being gone and a lack of understanding as to who she is. Similarly, Red Guardian feels completely worthless without his family and public adulation. All he craves in life is to be useful, and honestly, that hits me pretty hard right now in life.
Even Bob was completely understandable and relatable. I could follow every piece of his logic, even the parts where he gave way to the Void. All the flaws and weaknesses of these characters were laid bare in a way that not only felt relatable, but it also felt deeply real, especially to those with mental health issues. The realness of the characters juxtaposed with the silliness of the idea of creating our own gods worked because Marvel didn’t rely on CGI or character cameos to create it. It worked because they focused on something anyone could understand and relate to: the idea of being alone.
