Thunderbolts*

 

“Everyone deserves a second shot” was one of the official taglines I saw floating around for Thunderbolts*, and although this is ostensibly in reference to the scrappy characters that populate the film it could also just as easily apply to Marvel Studios and the long-running cinematic universe it birthed back in 2008 with Iron Man. Ever since the culmination of storytelling that was Avengers: Endgame in 2019 it seems like the MCU has had more misses than hits, with existing fans shrugging their shoulders and longing for the glory days with almost every new release and potential new audiences being completely locked out thanks to the sheer weight of each movie’s legacy. Thunderbolts* (yes, the asterisk is an actual part of the title) is a return to form of sorts that injects some much-needed energy into the nearly twenty-year-old franchise, and its themes of depression and mental health also make it one of the more meaningful superhero films in a while.

The cast of Thunderbolts* is technically an ensemble one, but there is no doubt that the show really belongs to Florence Pugh’s Yelena and Lewis Pullman’s Bob, the former of whom was introduced in 2021’s Black Widow and the latter being a newcomer to the MCU. David Harbour’s Red Guardian is also there to steal a laugh or two, and the other team members are there more or less to take up space. But Pugh and Pullman carry the emotional weight well, bringing gravitas to a universe that sometimes offers nothing deeper than popcorn-munching fun.  

Up until the fairly cerebral and touching ending, Thunderbolts* does not deviate too much from the usual Marvel formula, however. There is still a lot of action to be had, even if it does seem a bit toned down from previous entries, and that action still very much feels like a child gleefully mashing action figures together.  There are plenty of snarky quips from sassy characters, and the end credit scenes dutifully tease what is to come next in a never-ending conga line of content. That being said, this tried-and-true formula works pretty well here—the metaphorical action figure child has a pretty good eye for fight choreography and the snarkiness is genuinely fun without being obnoxious.

Thunderbolts* doesn’t reinvent the wheel, in other words, but it does add some oil to the squeaky axles of the Marvel Cinematic Universe thanks to some solid performances and a focused theme of depression and loss. It offers some much needed energy to a franchise that desperately needed it, and as a fan I couldn’t be happier.

Thunderbolts* is now playing in theaters.

 

 

Sinners

 

Horror only ever seems to transcend forgettable fun when it is about something deeper than the surface-level scares it provides. Films like Midsommar and Pearl have a feminist bent, commenting on the stifling effects of the patriarchy even as they thrill audiences, while movies like The Babadook and Hereditary explore themes of loss and family to chilling effect. Vampires have always been prime canvases for metaphor, so it will come as no surprise that Ryan Coogler’s Sinners uses them to tell a story that is deeper than it appears to be on paper. Sure, blood is let, garlic is munched, and hearts are staked, but Sinners is really about the power of music, the fear of cultural assimilation, and much more; but let’s not forget the fact that it is also just very, very good, if not particularly scary.

As writer, producer, and director, Ryan Coogler’s fingerprints are all over Sinners, his first big-budget project that wasn’t based on an existing property, and they are fingerprints that I hope to see more often. The dialogue is authentic and believable, and Coogler once again proves that he has a knack not only for action scenes but also for the quieter, more dramatic ones. The more grounded first half of Sinners, which is set in Great Depression-era, heavily segregated Mississippi, is an extended set up for the vampire carnage that takes place later, but finding out who these characters are and what they’ve been through is actually more interesting than the supernatural second half, which is exciting but isn’t quite as engaging.

Much more interesting than the vampires themselves are what they represent, as well as the musical qualities and themes that Sinners fully leans into to beautiful effect. The soundtrack by Ludwig Goransson, as well as the performance of newcomer Miles Canton, who plays blues prodigy Sammie “Preacher Boy” Moore, give the film an infectious energy and will leave audiences tapping their toes even as they fear for the jugulars of the characters (Coogler’s muse, Michael B. Jordan, pulls double duty as two of the film’s other main characters, cousins Smoke and Stack, in disparate performances that showcase his fantastic range, and Hailee Steinfeld also wows as past flame Mary). I would have been perfectly happy watching a film simply about Preacher Boy’s journey to become a musician, vampires be damned, but then again if you cut them an important bit of symbolism would be lost. As I said earlier, here the blood suckers are stand-ins for cultural assimilation, a fear that joining a melting pot of people might erase one’s cultural identity, but they also represent Sammie’s struggle against his father’s wish for him to follow his footsteps as a preacher.

Sinners isn’t particularly scary and it isn’t without a corny moment or two, but overall it’s not just a great vampire film but a great film period.

Sinners is now playing in theaters.