THUNDERBOLTS and Nothingness

    

one of the more dynamic images in Thunderbolts*

*this review includes non-specific spoilers for the film*

    Perhaps it is surprising, if tragically still not a saving grace, that the first Marvel movie in several years to actually somewhat get me, if not to the theater then at least to press play, features its characters grappling to reconcile “nothingness.” In the six plus years that have somehow elapsed since Avengers: Endgame, it has become a conventional take that the once mighty Marvel Studios has lost its way, however, as can happen, sometimes convention is accurate. Even allowing for the odd glimmer of life, the (seemingly) endless onslaught of Marvel properties of the past few years have by and large verged from outright unwatchable to merely poorly made. Diagnoses for these conditions have come from everywhere and everyone, perhaps even all at once, and while I readily admit that I held on longer than some, quitting somewhere around Moon Knight, (apologies if Quantumania abstinence compromises my critical voice here) the fear that perhaps these films never had much going for them at all has long since taken permanent residence in my cinematic worldview. What started as a concern morphed into outright belief that it was entirely possible these films were never that good in the first place. 

    So when the critical praise of Thunderbolts* arrived, I was hesitant and like anyone on its second weekend, the reviews failed to get me to the theater. However, when I finally did watch the film this week, when Florence Pugh and Bob from Top Gun began to muse on their own inner inanity, that pesky question genuinely seemed leap off the screen. Indeed, what is the point? For the characters of the film this question relates to their own disinterest and self-doubt yet, to me the subtext of the statement seemed to speak far louder than this overt character goal, declaring instead an alternative core dilemma: what is the point of these movies any more? As Thunderbolts* progresses, the film makes its case, hoping that added emphasis on the emotional well being of its super beings will be enough to make up for dividends. The film dabbles in heady questions of trauma, depression and self hatred, items perhaps irregular in the superhero world, however, forgive me if in a world were infinity has long been reduced to a handful of rocks, these existential quandaries cannot land with the weight of the universe as intended. Instead, I found another question gnawing at me as I watched C-tier MCU icons bounce around my screen. Is the very asking of a question, even if it is one coming far too late, enough for true redemption? By the time the second credit scene teases further "doom", our (anti?) heroes have found their answer. I’m just not so certain the movie Thunderbolts* has as well.

    From even its marketing, Marvel seemed confident that Thunderbolts* was a course correction from their previous films, answering the critics who had claimed the studio failed to make "cinema."Yet, when that same marketing begged audiences to believe them that A24 had become their new best friend, they betrayed their hand, making the most obvious parallel and influence in Thunderbolts* all too clear.  Best picture winner Everything Everywhere All At Once guides the film's every step, from its narrative musings to even it style. While this may seem left field on paper, perhaps it is not surprising considering the Daniels' film is a maximalist endeavor and one that has already enjoyed widespread influence over much of mainstream film, not to mention the film's executive producers. In Thunderbolts*, it goes a tad further than sharing a few aesthetic parallels. Both films end up utilizing a similar central metaphor, one that employs modern genre motifs in the exploration of themes of nihilism, and more overtly, depression. In EEAAO, it is a vortex/black hole, shaped like a bagel, sucking in everything around it. Thunderbolts* has a vortex too, only this one is shaped like a superhero, would-be proof, as Kevin Fiege often claims, that superheroes hold within them the potential for weightier themes as well.

the everything bagel in Everything Everywhere all at Once (2022) dir. the Daniels

a superhero shaped everything bagel called the Void

 
    This metaphor is not entirely ineffective, however, something still just did not seem to be functioning as intended. A key scene from the opening of the film proves to be instructive. The movie begins with its main character, Florence Pugh’s Elena (from Black Widow and Hawkeye remember?) leaping off a building, even as a voiceover explains that the following hijinks no longer bring her any satisfaction. Clearly this leap has potential for visual depth, especially within the confines of its genre. To begin a film with a character declaring their depression, as they teeter on the side of a cliff is a time honored tradition, and in other circumstances might even evoke Capra or the Coens. This narrative/cinematic trope allows for instant dramatic tension and entrance to a sympathetic character. We as an audience wonder, what has brought this person to this point, will they go through with it, or rather more importantly, can this film help me to believe that things can get better? In The Hudsucker Proxy or It's a Wonderful Life, we are given these answers through careful dramatic tension and exploration. Here this moderately hyped stunt of Florence Pugh tumbling from a building is not allowed to even finish fully, the moment is quickly moved forward into another fight scene, its depression manifest only by what Pugh is telling us, and I suppose by slightly moodier lighting than what we may have seen in another Marvel film. The film is then instantly robbed not only of its deeper subtext, but is not even allowed to function as the full film opening set piece it so wants to be. Moments later when it is revealed that Elena’s monologue comes from a one sided conversation with an assailant she has bound to a desk, the depth of her words are even further undercut for a joke that hardly lands (it is no longer novel to see a superhero “play against type," the anti-tropes have become tropes). Then, when this witless minion is somewhat cruelly dispatched by a stray bullet, the film moves on quickly, making the scene an overall specific example that functions indicative to the problem at large (though I should say Florence Pugh is not one of those problems, doing excellent work as always). 

Tim Robbins at the beginning of The Hudsucker Proxy (1994) dir. The Coen Brothers

    The problem is not that the jokes don’t land, though they don’t, nor that the images lack depth, even those shot by The Green Knight’s DP, or that the editing is too quick, their arrangement (in part) by Minari’s editor aside. The problem is that even before the main character told us the images mean nothing, the audience already felt that way. Rather than sympathizing with Florence’s depression or even *marveling* at her abilities, we simply feel very little at all. In something of an ironic twist, it is the audience that is feeling the same nothingness and while some may feel the film is succeeding by allowing both the characters and the audience to feel the same emotions, this is not a case of empathy on the screen, but of a film (and studio) that has fallen behind those watching. Even if the film has now acknowledged that its figures reside in a weightless world and are trying to comprehend how that could effect them, they have not done to work to bring an audience up to the point where they might feel it as well. There is no weight in the MCU and pointing that out in a "meta" twist is no longer a solution. 

    Eventually, the film reaches the apex of it attempt to interplay with its own nothingness, utilizing both its similar metaphor and resolution to those we saw in EEAAO. This is where the film shines the brightest and just as it worked in the Daniels’ film, the resolution of Thunderbolts* is almost emotionally stirring. The characters finding a reason to keep living lands with resonance and there was a moment when the very fact that I was feeling anything at all while watching one of these movies almost convinced me that it perhaps could have been something. Maybe I had misjudged its initial nothingness, and the film is in fact a clever dissection of the MCU’s predominating issues. Unfortunately, for me, the movie’s coda was quick to remedy this delusion. The characters may find reasons for themselves to keep going but the film is swift to repackage them and box them forward along the corporate train, no matter what Pugh whispers to Selina Meyer-I mean Elaine-I mean Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s character. These figures, depressed or not, are nothing more than products, even if they tried so hard to prove otherwise.
    The twist to this argument, however, comes in the diminishing box office receipts. If the films are underperforming products, is it still pro-cinema to dunk on Marvel? It should be noted that when they were in their hey-day, projectile vomiting a billion dollars with every one of their sneezes, on a sheer financial level, Marvel helped keep the doors of the cinemas open. In this light, it is likely not an entirely unfounded fear that their decline will not result in more space for smaller films as we might hope but just further industry decay at large. I also doubt it is too erroneous to recognize that Marvel saw Thunderbolts* as their way to “address the haters” and as such the film’s lackluster performance will likely, rather than inspire them to continue attempting to make more cinematic works, only push them further into the salivating paws of that corporate inhuman techno future that eagerly awaits them (something certain rehirings already indicate). Faced with all of these prospects, should we not just be pleased and satisfied that they once again made a movie that presented the occasional emotional beat, looks actually pretty okay and actually tried to care about the thoughts and feelings of the asexual beings that populate its green screen visages? Put more simply, in criticizing the film, am I not missing the point and perhaps working contrary to the interests I profess?
    Maybe. However, in response to these theoretical critics, I find a response of twisted hope. I reject the idea that a film deserves praise simply for satisfying basic functions. Yes, we live in a hyper corporate era of filmmaking, one that is populated by an overall lackluster output of cinema. Yet, I think it is a far more pessimistic, and nihilistic, opinion to believe that films cannot be any better than what we are already given, or that the cinema’s fate is completely tied to corporate hells. These ideas work inherently to support the interests of the selfsame corporations that are part of the problem. Yes, it’s possible the decline of Marvel could be a detriment to the overall theatrical business and I’m confident these underperformances of their “better” films this year will only result in more “content.” However, those of us who love movies must look for a real future and not believe them when they say, “we are nothing without them.” We need not settle. We must expect more from these corporations. There are so many distractions from real progress and so many reasons to lose hope in today's world and yet, we must not. So even if Marvel makes a valiant attempt to dissect that nothingness, its own nothingness, I refuse to grant them full marks again until they can actually make good on that promise, and that’s because I have hope for something better.

Thunderbolts* is on Disney+