For those of us who have loyally attended services beneath the steeple of the Marvel Cinematic Universe since our adolescence, these last few years have been nothing if not a crisis of faith. While not everyone embraced fandom with the same zeal, for many regular participation in the franchise was, at a minimum, worth the time it took to show up and sit amongst the pews. And for those of us who were steeped in a theology of easter eggs, predictions, and fervent study of the original texts which prophesied the coming of a culminatory film (in this case two), what we expected—believed, even—was that the end was only a beginning, only a taste of a coming kingdom. So when Avengers: Endgame rode into the city in 2019 with all manner of (well-deserved) cloak laying and branch waving only to be betrayed by a slew of boring TV shows and fragmented, baffling, meager-at-best theatrical releases, it left many of us apostles wondering if we had misplaced our faith.

But perhaps with the release of Thunderbolts* (2025) it is important to remind the remnant that resurrection and ascension must be preceded by crucifixion. Though the years have been full of weeping, gnashing of teeth, and frequent eye-rolling, it seems possible that the MCU might still be capable of fulfilling its promises. To be clear, it is too soon to say if our season of trial and doubt is over. Yet, even if it is no empty tomb, what Thunderbolts* represents is faith rewarded, a return (even briefly) to a tradition of blockbuster competence that seemed lost to a proliferation of nightmarishly digital and dumbly unfunny slop.

Thunderbolts* gathers a collection of MCU B-characters and cast-offs who are—after the scattering and sidelining of more powerful characters post-Endgame—left to deal with that thing we have all learned to be concerned with in the last hundred-some days: politicians who think they know what they are doing. While covering her tracks amidst a likely impeachment (imagine), CIA director Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus as a cheekily Veep-ed Tulsi Gabbard) accidentally unites former baddies John Walker/USAgent (Wyatt Russell) and Ava Starr/Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen) with not-so-baddies Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh), Alexei Shostakov/Red Guardian (David Harbour), and Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier (Sebastian Stan). The issue at hand? An awkward, seemingly innocent (and perhaps super-powered) fella named Bob (Lewis Pullman).

One-part espionage thriller to one-part standard superhero fare to one-part Gen Z identity crisis, what results is a film that is both proficiently executed and unexpectedly resonant. Though in many ways (and even explicitly) a riff on prior franchise entries, its decision to emotionally center on the existential ambivalence of Yelena (and in turn foreground a rock solid performance from Pugh) invests what could easily have been a largely unimpressive retread with a potent dose of heart. Amidst its relatively brief but exciting action sequences (which are often refreshingly non-computer generated), script-elevating performances and a well-balanced hand of quips and bits, Thunderbolts* manages to coalesce into a very different kind of climax, one that might be quicker to draw a tear than drop your jaw. At times, the process of building to such a finale is slow or lapses, resulting in a narrative arc occasionally disrupted—and almost defeated—by fatigue. However, a particularly affecting interaction between Red Guardian and Yelena simultaneously resuscitates and initiates a fascinating, even touching conclusion.

This is an effect that is enhanced by simple stylistic opportunities that the MCU has recently, confoundingly ignored; consistent production design, crisp cinematography, tonal coherence, and a robust score by Son Lux provide a stable and engaging formal foundation for a breadth of interesting character dynamics, whether it is the delightful (and shockingly tender) goofiness of Red Guardian, the sheepish sadness of Bob, or the tired pragmatism of Bucky Barnes (to name a few highlights).

But perhaps what will excite deconstructing MCU devotees most (and what excited this reviewer most) is the return of what made the MCU special in the first place, that most sacred quality which has been squandered and preyed upon in recent years: the thoughtful, inventive, and accurate portrayal of its comic book heritage. Indeed, Thunderbolts* both foregrounds and paves the way for further ambitious decisions in this regard, in turn—and along with the rest of the film—offering those who may have struggled with their faith compelling reasons to believe that maybe, just maybe, we have passed the test.

Kipp De Man

Kipp De Man graduated from Calvin University in 2023, having majored in film and media studies. He is currently working towards a master’s degree in the same discipline at Washington University in St. Louis. He enjoys reading and writing poetry, rock climbing, and Coke Zero.