Thunderbolts, directed by Jake Schreier (Beef, Paper Towns), follows the story of a group of anti-heroes and former villains assembled by the U.S. government to carry out dangerous missions that traditional heroes couldn’t handle. Under the leadership of Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the team includes characters such as Yelena Belova, last seen in the Hawkeye series, Bucky Barnes (the Winter Soldier), last seen in Captain America: Brave New World, Red Guardian, last seen in Black Widow, U.S. Agent, last seen in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Ghost, last seen in Ant-Man and the Wasp, and Taskmaster, also last seen in Black Widow.
In a universe where the Marvel formula seemed to have become predictable, THUNDERBOLTS emerges as an unexpected breath of fresh air. More than just another “misfit team” movie, this film manages to be one of Marvel’s most unique recent projects — and that’s no small feat. Unlike the polished “Avengers” lineups or the colorful irreverence of the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” Thunderbolts* bets on broken characters, morally ambiguous and trapped in their own tragedies. The movie is less about saving the world and more about surviving oneself. What truly elevates Thunderbolts* to another level is its simply phenomenal action. Jake Schreier directs with impressive precision, delivering scenes that are both visceral and brutally elegant in their choreography. Hand-to-hand fights are filmed clearly, without relying on frantic cuts or editing tricks to mask sloppy choreography — here, every blow, every impact, is deeply felt. Schreier understands that action is not just spectacle but an extension of the characters’ personalities. Every Thunderbolt fights in a way that reflects their internal pain and motivations — there’s uncontrolled aggression, hesitation, and even desperation in the subtext of each clash. All of this is wrapped in a direction that avoids the typical artificiality of superhero films, favoring a more physical and immediate approach.
The action sequences in Thunderbolts* are thrilling not because they are massive, but because they are intense and filled with meaning. The scene in the abandoned complex, for example, is instantly iconic: raw, dark, without a heroic soundtrack, just the heavy sound of breathing and blows. Jake Schreier deserves applause for not treating Thunderbolts* as just another standardized chapter, but as an opportunity to build something aesthetically unique within the MCU. His steady hand in directing the film makes all the difference — bringing weight, style, and a sorely needed authenticity to Marvel. But if there’s one element that truly anchors the heart of THUNDERBOLTS, it’s Lewis Pullman’s performance as Bob, the enigmatic and unstable Sentry. Known for his role in Top Gun: Maverick, Pullman delivers here the most surprising and powerful performance of his career so far — and perhaps one of the most important in the recent MCU. Bob is not just the strongest hero in the Marvel universe — he is also the most emotionally fractured. Pullman’s Sentry is a man haunted by his own existence, torn between absolute power and an almost childlike vulnerability. It is precisely in this paradox that the actor shines: he portrays strength that fears itself, a god begging not to exist.
Pullman’s approach is extremely subtle and painfully honest. He never overacts, never forces emotion. His depression, his silent anguish, his lost gaze during moments of calm — all of it builds a profoundly human image of a character who could have easily been reduced to just another “out-of-control Superman.” It takes courage to address themes like depression, dissociation, and inner darkness within a superhero blockbuster, and Pullman does so with brutal delicacy. Bob is a man carrying the weight of the world — not as a symbol of hope, but as the greatest threat to existence itself. There are moments when just his gaze communicates more than any dialogue could. And when the fury finally explodes, it’s devastating — not just because of the visual spectacle, but because of the emotional collapse it brings along. Jake Schreier’s direction, once again, deserves praise for giving space for the performance to breathe. Rather than reducing Bob to a walking weapon, Schreier treats him as what he really is: a living study of loneliness, trauma, and self-control on the edge of collapse. With his performance in Thunderbolts, Lewis Pullman not only redefined Sentry for the big screen — he raised the emotional depth that the MCU is capable of reaching. If Marvel is truly entering a new phase, Bob is its boldest and darkest symbol. Florence Pugh, as Yelena Belova, had already proven herself as one of the most charismatic and complex additions to the MCU. But here, she goes beyond the sarcasm and biting irony that had defined her character so far. In Thunderbolts*, Yelena is broken, exhausted, and desperately trying to maintain a facade of control. Pugh dominates every scene with a magnetic presence, shifting between the coldness of a seasoned spy and genuinely touching moments of emotional fragility. Her dramatic timing is spot-on, especially in scenes where silence and subtle expressions convey more than any witty line could. There’s unresolved pain behind Yelena’s strength, and Florence Pugh portrays it with painful honesty, transforming the character into much more than just a “new Black Widow”: she becomes a human reflection of grief, guilt, and the search for purpose.
Meanwhile, Wyatt Russell, as John Walker / U.S. Agent, delivers perhaps his most powerful and restrained performance to date. Instead of the impulsive antagonism seen in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, here he presents a performance marked by constant internal tension. Walker is a man broken by the system he swore to serve, and Russell plays him with a permanently suspicious gaze and a body always on edge — like someone about to explode, but holding it all in. There’s a certain tragedy to his U.S. Agent: a soldier trained to follow orders who now lives in a moral limbo, trying to find redemption without knowing if he deserves it. Wyatt Russell deeply understands this and delivers an almost silent performance filled with anguish, with moments of inevitable, devastating outbursts.
Visually, Thunderbolts* might not reinvent the wheel — but it finds surprising ways to shine within a palette that, at first glance, seems familiar. The film adopts a more muted, gray-toned aesthetic, reminiscent of the more “grounded” era of the MCU, like Captain America: The Winter Soldier. There’s an industrial, almost faded atmosphere that permeates much of the setting — and this, curiously, works in favor of the narrative. This colder look reinforces the melancholic and broken tone of the group, underlining the sense of emptiness and wear that permeates the story. It might feel “generic” at times, especially for those expecting a more colorful or daring visual style, but there’s a clear intent behind this choice: these characters are not heroes at their peak — they are at rock bottom. And the world around them reflects that. What truly surprises, however, are the moments when the cinematography breaks from the expected and delivers truly striking images. The use of the camera during the fights is also noteworthy: instead of relying on fast cuts, it follows the characters with a raw, almost documentary-like eye, greatly enhancing immersion. The visual direction avoids the exaggerated pyrotechnics of recent Marvel movies, and this — counterintuitive as it may seem — gives the film a sense of weight and purpose. And it’s only in the final moments of Thunderbolts* that the mysterious asterisk in the title gains meaning — and changes everything. Without spoiling major surprises, the asterisk symbol reveals a hidden double meaning: not only referencing the internal scars each team member carries but also setting the stage for a drastic and devastating shift in the MCU. The post-credits scene reinforces this brutal twist. In a shocking and ambitious move, it opens the door to what will become the massive battleground of Avengers: Doomsday, indicating that the events of Thunderbolts* were just the first tremor of something much, much bigger.
What seemed like a standalone film about broken anti-heroes is actually the first piece in a much darker, more chaotic, and epic puzzle. Thunderbolts* is one of the best and most unique recent MCU films. It’s bold in its melancholic approach, brutal in its action scenes, emotionally devastating thanks to brilliant performances (with Lewis Pullman and Florence Pugh standing out), and carried by Jake Schreier’s confident and distinctive direction. Despite some muted visual choices that could seem generic, the film finds moments of beauty and power that elevate it well above the standard. More than just an anti-hero story, Thunderbolts* is a meditation on pain, guilt, and the difficult search for redemption — all wrapped in a rare sense of emotional truth. If the MCU needed a sincere and courageous revitalization, Thunderbolts* is proof that it has already begun — and we can’t wait to see what comes next.
Thunderbolts* releases in theaters on May 2.
