‘Marvel Studios’ Thunderbolts*’ – Review
After years of cosmic battles, multiversal crises, and god-tier punch-outs, the Marvel Cinematic Universe has finally decided to take a beat. Thunderbolts*, the 2025 ensemble antihero flick from director Jake Schreier, marks a clear and calculated shift for Marvel Studios; a sharp veer away from the sparkling spandex of classic heroism into something much darker, messier, and altogether more human. It’s a change the MCU sorely needed.
In Thunderbolts* Marvel Studios assembles an unconventional team of antiheroes — Yelena Belova, Bucky Barnes, Red Guardian, Ghost, Taskmaster and John Walker. After finding themselves ensnared in a death trap set by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, these disillusioned castoffs must embark on a dangerous mission that will force them to confront the darkest corners of their pasts. Will this dysfunctional group tear themselves apart, or find redemption and unite as something much more before it’s too late?
Let’s be honest: post Avengers: Endgame, Marvel’s output has been… uneven. While some films (Shang-Chi, Spider-Man: No Way Home) soared, others floundered under the weight of expectation or the chaos of endless multiversal setup. The universe felt disjointed, like it was struggling to figure out its identity in a world without Tony Stark or Steve Rogers. Enter Thunderbolts*, a down-and-dirty, emotionally jagged punch to the gut that doesn’t just ask what makes a hero—but whether being one is even possible anymore.
Directed with gritty confidence by Schreier, Thunderbolts* feels like the MCU’s version of The Dirty Dozen gone punk rock, but with a uniquely melancholic soul. There’s plenty of action here: gunfights, knife duels, super-soldier smackdowns, but it’s not the high-flying, witty spectacle of old. It’s bruising. Intimate. Personal. And it works.
Florence Pugh anchors the chaos with her most layered MCU performance yet. As Yelena Belova, Natasha Romanoff’s adoptive sister and the Black Widow left behind, she’s a wreck — drowning her trauma in booze and botched mercenary gigs. Pugh is, unsurprisingly, phenomenal. While she still kicks ass with brutal grace in some of the film’s most viscerally choreographed sequences, it’s the quiet moments, when she’s broken, guilt-ridden, and painfully alone, that hit hardest. Yelena isn’t just a badass assassin anymore; she’s a woman in mourning, clawing for purpose.
Backing her up is Sebastian Stan’s Bucky Barnes, now improbably a U.S. Congressman — and just as out of place as that sounds. Bucky’s attempt to “go straight” has left him disconnected and ineffective, and when he’s dragged back into the covert world of black ops and broken people, he’s reluctantly forced into a leadership role. Stan brings real weariness to the role — this is a man who’s tired of war but knows no other life. His arc is one of quiet heartbreak and begrudging acceptance, and it gives the film real weight.
The rest of the Thunderbolts* squad is a gloriously dysfunctional mess. David Harbour returns as Alexei Shostakov, the Red Guardian, injecting some levity into the film’s otherwise dark tone. But Harbour wisely plays Alexei with a hint of tragic self-awareness beneath the Dad Jokes; he knows he’s ridiculous, and maybe even past his prime, but he still suits up and shows up. He’s the bruised heart of the team. Wyatt Russell’s John Walker, aka U.S. Agent, remains the MCU’s most volatile wildcard. Still nursing the wounds from his failed stint as Captain America, Walker’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Wakanda, and Russell leans into the anger and insecurity with gripping intensity. He’s the guy you hate to love, and vice versa. Then there’s Hannah John-Kamen’s Ghost, Ava Starr, who slinks through the film with emo disaffection and raw, twitchy vulnerability. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want to feel. But she does – and her journey from isolated outcast to someone tentatively willing to trust again is quietly moving.
Julia Louis-Dreyfus finally gets to unleash as Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, and she devours every scene. Think Miranda Priestly with her finger hovering above the nuclear button; cold, calculating, fabulously dressed, and always two steps ahead. She’s not just pulling strings behind the scenes, she’s practically puppeteering the entire geopolitical chessboard, and when her plans start to unravel, Louis-Dreyfus lets her mask slip just enough to show the dangerous woman underneath. It’s a career-defining MCU moment, and she owns it.
Visually, Thunderbolts* is a departure. Gone are the glossy, VFX-heavy skylines and light-drenched alien realms. Schreier and cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw give the film a grounded, almost grimy aesthetic. There’s a grunge sensibility to the whole thing — flickering neon, sweat-stained corridors, shadows that creep. It’s less superhero movie, more post-punk noir, and Son Lux’s thumpy electronica score only enhances the mood.
Tonally, the film is daringly bleak. It wrestles with themes of depression, addiction, identity, and redemption; not as plot points, but as core character elements. These aren’t heroes trying to save the world. They’re people trying to survive it. And that makes their small, personal victories feel monumental. But make no mistake, when the action hits, it hits. Schreier opts for stripped-back, hard-hitting combat, more Bourne Identity than Infinity War. There’s a knife fight in a dimly lit concrete-lined vault that is easily one of the MCU’s best action sequences — raw, claustrophobic, emotionally charged, and it smashes home with a solid thud!
Marvel Studios’ Thunderbolts* is not the movie we expected — but it might just be the one the MCU needed. It’s messy. It’s angry. It’s deeply human. It’s a film about people with scars, some visible, some not, who still find the will to stand up and fight again. If the post-Endgame MCU has been about searching for new purpose, Thunderbolts is the moment it finally stops searching and starts feeling. And for that alone, it hits with a hell of a whack.
Image: Walt Disney Pictures
