THUNDERBOLTS*
Genre: Action, Adventure
Directed by: Jake Schreier
Starring: Florence Pugh, Sebastian Stan, David Harbour
Release Date: May 2, 2025
Platform: Theatrical
Rating: 4/5
By Karl Simpson Jr.
“The darkness here isn’t some monster—it’s the thought that no one is thinking about you.”
THUNDERBOLTS* is genuinely surprising. It’s easily one of the most emotionally grounded films Marvel has released in years. No multiverse chaos. No overblown third-act spectacle. Instead, it slows things down, gives its characters space, and leans into something much more vulnerable. It’s still a Marvel movie—there’s action, humor, and some uneven pacing—but what stood out was how intimate it felt. It’s not your typical team-up film. It barely feels like one. But it delivers something tangible, primarily through the dynamic between Yelena and Bob, which becomes the emotional center of a story more interested in connection than explosions.
Let’s start here: this isn’t the Marvel of old. THUNDERBOLTS* trades spectacle for emotion, and that shift pays off. When it shows up, the action is sharp and intense, but never overwhelming. Every fight feels grounded. Nothing is there just for the sake of looking cool. But more than that, the movie gives room for silence, grief and even discomfort. It’s not about saving the world. It’s about saving yourself from yourself—and trying to find someone willing to meet you in that place.
The relationship between Yelena and Bob really gives this film its pulse. Their dynamic isn’t polished or convenient—it’s messy, honest, and full of weight. You can feel their shared pain, unspoken history, and the aching need for connection underneath every interaction. It never feels forced. It just is. Their scenes carry the kind of emotional gravity that sticks with you. When the film lands, it’s because of them.
Here’s where things get a little shaky. For a movie marketed as a team-up, THUNDERBOLTS* is very much Yelena’s story. Florence Pugh easily carries the film—but the rest of the cast? They don’t get nearly the same depth. Bob receives just enough to feel complete, but the others often feel like background noise. Sure, they’re there and have roles to play—but their stories don’t breathe. They don’t hit on the same emotional level, which makes the film feel a little lopsided.
Despite the unevenness, when THUNDERBOLTS* focuses on what matters, it’s incredibly effective. It captures something Marvel hasn’t touched in a while: emotional silence. The kind of loneliness that isn’t loud but sits in the corners. Yelena embodies that isolation within the film —the ache of being unchosen, unseen. And the film doesn’t try to fix her. It just sits with her. That’s powerful.
THUNDERBOLTS* isn’t a story about triumph—it’s a story about making it through the day, about finding one person who won’t walk away. The darkness here isn’t some monster—it’s the thought that no one is thinking about you. It’s the thought that you don’t matter. And what the film gets right is that healing doesn’t come from a final battle. It comes from being seen. It comes from being chosen. It comes from letting someone show up and letting them stay.
THUNDERBOLTS* might not be the ensemble epic some expected, but it’s a surprising, emotionally resonant entry in the Marvel cinematic universe. It’s messy in places, especially with how it juggles its cast. But the parts that really work deliver a grounded, surprisingly heartfelt story about loneliness, identity, and the quiet need to be understood. It’s not flawless. But it’s brave enough to sit in silence, and for that alone, it’s one of Marvel’s most honest films in years.
