Iron Man to Thunderbolts*: How Marvel went from genius to 'generic' and how they can fix it

New Indian Express

9 hours ago

In the chaos of superhero cinema, where mediocrity wears a fluttery cape and calls itself entertainment, Marvel proclaimed its latest release, Thunderbolts*, was a game changer. But you know the Hindi saying: andhe mein kana raja; in the land of the blind, the one-eyed is king. That's what I felt watching it. This latest Marvel offering feels less a crown jewel and more a child's scribble of it.
Marketed as the 'new Avengers', Thunderbolts* is the cinematic equivalent of a reheated pizza: familiar, slightly stale, and missing that original zing. But hey, even cold pizza tastes good when you're hungry. Are you hungry, though?
What I liked best about the film was its first line: 'There is something wrong with me. An emptiness.' Cue the world's slowest clap. Is this honest self-assessment from Marvel, a writer's cocky sneak-in, or simply a Freudian slip for a franchise haemorrhaging creativity while swimming in cash like Scrooge McDuck in DuckTales? Marvel ruled the zeitgeist in the 2010s. But come the 2020s, and they're just a notch better than the fare DC turned out in the 2010s. Sure, Thunderbolts* isn't the worst offender in the superhero genre, but let us also not pretend it is Iron Man reborn.
Ah, Iron Man. Remember 2008? When Tony Stark crash-landed into our hearts with his outrageous ego, AI tools before AI was cool, and a geopolitical conscience? That film wasn't just explosions and snark; it pointed a finger at American hubris, wrapped in a full metal jacket (pun intended).
Fast-forward to Thunderbolts*, where the stakes are… uh… something something world-ending macguffin? Yawn!!! The magic of early Marvel was its microscopic focus: Tony saving himself, Cap punching Nazis (and nationalism), and Civil War turning heroes into squabbling siblings over a Sokovia-sized guilt trip. Those films had texture; they were political thrillers with a coating of spandex.
But post-Endgame, most Marvel's scripts seem penned by aliens who've only heard of Earth via garbled intergalactic podcasts. Eternals? A snooze-fest of celestial taxidermy. Multiverse of Madness? More like Multiverse of Meh-ness. And Quantumania? Let's just say it made the quantum realm feel as exciting as a spreadsheet. These films float in a narrative tesseract, untethered from reality, emotions, or basic logic. Remember when Marvel villains had motives deeper than 'muahaha, destruction'?
Thunderbolts* tries. It really really does. There's a Tulsi Gabbard-esque politician, and a half-baked metaphor about talking to evil to quell it and a desperate attempt to reheat the old trope of washed-out, has-been, or could-have-been superheroes redeeming themselves. Yet, somehow the results don't match the desperation, and we get a film that's all sizzle, no steak; a fireworks display where the fireworks are CGI and the fuse is a damp matchstick.
Writing action movies is tough. I know, cause I've failed a few times. You've got to have six or seven set action pieces. They take up 30 to 40 per cent of your time. So, in a 100-minute feature, you're left with just an hour to tell your actual story and even parts of that are build-ups to the action.
To somehow make the audience feel for a protagonist in such a short time, that's a tough ask. Yet, to use all the 100 minutes for nothing but build-up, action, and slapstick gags like Deadpool & Wolverine ( read my previous rant here ) make it seem less a movie, more TikTok montage (shoutout to the fugly dog, though; true MVP). And Thor: Love and Thunder? It turned Marvel's god into a punchline with repeated gags, inconsistent tone and forced humour.
So, what's the issue? All these films made money, didn't they? Yeah! But so did Pablo Escobar and Adolf Hitler. Do we sing paeans for them? In cinema, when you prioritise spectacle over soul, when a green screen outshines your hero's journey, sorry, but you've lost the plot.
Now, here's the thing. It's fun to simply critique, but can I offer Marvel any solutions? As a screenwriter and film geek, I think I can.
In 2008, Marvel was the scrappy underdog, not the behemoth ordering audiences to 'assemble' like a corporate retreat. Iron Man wasn't just a film; it was a dare. A dare to care about a narcissistic weapons dealer with a heart condition. The genius? It didn't ask us to love Tony Stark; it asked us to root for his redemption.
His villain wasn't some alien warlord; it was his own weapons, his greed, his America. The film's climax wasn't a city-levelling laser fight (okay, fine, there was a big fight and a few buildings were indeed damaged), but Tony Stark admitting, 'I am Iron Man,' mind-blown because it was a confession that felt like a middle finger to secret identities and a handshake with accountability.
Compare that to Thunderbolts*, where the team's 'redemption' arc is about as deep as a puddle after a drizzle. These characters aren't flawed: they're conveniently damaged. Their backstories are tossed out like food packets in a refugee camp: here's a tragic childhood, there's a dead sidekick. Oops, did we forget to make you care?
And let's not forget Captain America, the boy scout. His first film's heart didn't come from a super-soldier serum; it came from a scrawny kid who kept getting punched but stood up anyway. The First Avenger was a love letter to integrity in the face of fascism; a theme that has aged finer than the best wine. But Thunderbolts*? Its political commentary is about as sharp as a spoon. That Tulsi Gabbard knockoff and congressional hearing? Seems as forced as the back stories.
So, what's the fix? First of all, give writers time to write. Make 20 films a year, fine. But give writers the time to dig into the want versus the need, the internal conflicts, the personal rebellions, the hubris! The idea is to shape the soul so the outside VFX acts like a nice little jacket.
And remember to go micro, not macro. Iron Man worked because Tony's biggest enemy was his own ego. He wasn't trying to save the world, he was just trying to save himself. Civil War ripped the Avengers apart over ideology, not aliens. Even Infinity War made us care about a purple guy with a gardening fetish. Thunderbolts*? The catastrophe is smaller, yes, a city-ending event that could gobble the world. And yes, it does give intimacy an intimate shot! Yet, it just doesn't come together.
And the golden rule? Inside out. Start with a character's heart, then build the explosions around it. Iron Man did this. So did Black Panther. Even Guardians of the Galaxy – a film about a talking raccoon – made us cry over a tree saying, 'I am Groot.' But Thunderbolts*? It's outside in. Its action set-pieces seem to have come first; the rest of the story feels like it was reverse-engineered to get there. The result? A film that feels like a trailer for itself – all highlight reel, little soul.
Marvel, darling, we're rooting for you. Truly. But recycling the same 'save the universe' schtick is like serving ketchup as soup. Just make movies because you love to make them, not because you feel beholden to shareholders. Stop chasing the spectre of Endgame. Stop trying to be the 'new Avengers.' Just be the old Marvel; the one that took risks, loved its characters, and remembered that even superheroes need to breathe.
Yeah, that's it. Be the old Marvel and you'll find your new Avengers.