Ho-hum.
That’s the mood that engulfs Thunderbolts* from its opening scene, when Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh) contemplates the ennui-inspiring routine of her life as a highly trained assassin, staring into the void from the top of the world’s second-highest building in Kuala Lumpur, then going through the murderous motions in a top-secret science lab. It’s all very gotta-make-the-doughnuts - similar to Jon Bernthal’s casually brutal, oh-so-over-it hit man in The Accountant 2 - and it’s a meta-reflection of the Hollywood culture Thunderbolts* lives in: This is reportedly the 36th movie in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, being released on the franchise’s 17th anniversary and closing out Phase 5 of its endless rollout. Are we done yet? Will we ever be done? Do we want to be done? Even the superheroes have superhero fatigue.
Deep sigh.
Marvel, of course, knows what we’re thinking, as evidenced in a self-deprecatory wink during an end credits montage. One reason the Avengers movies and their spin-offs were successful - before they became hopelessly mired in their own mythos - was their willingness to not take themselves all that seriously. Thunderbolts* demonstrates both the strengths and weaknesses of that strategy as a movie that includes some genuine wit but also a tiresome amount of what has become the series’ signature in-jokey sarcasm.
