Thunderbolts*

I wasn't going in to this film with much expectation which I think was a good thing because it really knocked it out of the park. The story didn't have to be anything complicated and luckily wasn't held down by any of the Multiversal storylines too. And its execution was really great. The whole film was well paced and its overall message was the highlight of the whole thing. The cast was topnotch, especially Florence Pugh (because when isn't she). I was relieved that the comedy in this film didn't overdo itself (I'm forever scarred by Thor: Love and Thunder) and that the writing never got corny or eye-roll inducing.

Overall a very good and enjoyable Marvel movie.

Florence Pugh was the best thing in Black Widow, and she's easily the best thing in Thunderbolts. Every moment that she's onscreen (and luckily she's onscreen a lot), she shines up the place.

And Thunderbolts really does need some sunshine. From the opening Marvel logo it's a dark affair, both in visual style (the ugly saturated look makes its entrance in the MCU) as in subject matter. Don't let the funny oneliners and random banter fool you, there's a lot of pain in this new rag tag team.

Thunderbolts does have a lot of fun with its underdog position. It's easy to see that Feige and co hope this team will be a new GOTG phenomenon. Unfortunately the movie feels a bit too tired to be able to do that. Despite all the reviews and ads proclaiming this will be the renaissance of the MCU: It's really just the Marvel PG 13 version of Suicide Squad.

The acting is very good, the visual effects look less rushed then they did in the previous films and I really had a good time. But there remained that nagging feeling that I was watching a movie that knew all the right notes but somehow just wasn't able to sing.

For a long time I've wanted marvel to allow the characters to truly feel the weight of their actions and come to grips with everything they do without some joke undercutting any and every emotional moment becuase they believe we can't handle seeing pain. This movie rectified that. Depression, suicidal ideation, apathy, loneliness and all of it was kept there without trying to make you turn away or think it funny.

They make you sit with the agony on yelenas face seeing how much her past affects her as well as everyone else. This gave me the emotional sincerity that's always been missing in the majority of mcu projects. The most human marvel has felt in a long time. Solid 8/10.

Marvel's new film debuted in theaters with low expectations and no box office rivals.

When I say low expectations, I'm talking about the general public and all the people who have abandoned the MCU ship in recent years, and not without reason. After all, the vast majority of projects haven't been entirely convincing, especially on the television front.

The box office failure and critical acclaim of the last Captain America film didn't help the hype either.

However, we have a film that shines brightly. It's been a long time since we've had a Marvel film that didn't need others and their connections to be popular.

There's a breath of fresh air, and the MCU has the opportunity to capitalize on it.

The premise is a simple film; the execution stands out quite a bit above average.

While it greatly develops the characters of Yelena and Bob, and not so much others like Ghost or Bucky, we have a strong plot and a transition during the first two acts that keep us on edge and entertained.

A particular fear I had was the inclusion of Red Guardian and his humor, which had already failed me in previous projects. However, here he contributes, and that's appreciated.

The third act is very risky. We were coming off the Captain America movie, where, thanks to the power of the script, he was able to face Red Hulk. Here, at first glance, it seems that the power of friendship is what resolves the plot, but this is more than that... for me, everyone's embrace of Bob is the catharsis of acceptance. That's why I loved the third act so much, and I didn't miss the blows or epic battles. Anyone who has suffered from deep depression knows that no matter how hard you fight and try day after day against that emptiness that drags you down, often only those around you know that you are more than the shadow you appear to be. Accepting your condition, accepting that trying to overcome it has never worked, but rather, on the contrary, eats away at you and separates you from society even more. When you're like this, you realize that embracing it and seeking help to reach that embrace is the only thing that can save you. That depression is a part of you, and instead of trying to beat it down, the best thing is to accept it and learn to live with it.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing this last part, but it really seems much deeper to me than thinking that the script could have resolved everything.

Even at the end, we have time for the writers to show us an effective way to limit a character's power, and not with the classic "I was on another planet when all this happened," as they did perfectly with Sentry, "If I unleash my power, I'll also unleash that monster." Simply brilliant.

At the end, there are two post-credits scenes, one of which has a direct connection to "Fantastic 4" and which opens the debate to many questions about what we'll see in July.

I sincerely appreciate what Marvel did with "Thunderbolts*," now I wait for what's next.

There are bad movies, and then there are movies so painfully dull that they feel like a form of passive torture. The kind of film where the plot moves at the speed of drying paint, where characters talk endlessly about nothing, and where any promise of action or excitement is crushed under the weight of meaningless dialogue. This is that movie-a sluggish, monotonous experience that tests the audience's patience at every turn.

From the very first scene, it's clear that nothing of importance is going to happen anytime soon. The camera lingers on empty hallways, slow pans across unremarkable landscapes, and close-ups of characters sighing dramatically before speaking in long, rambling monologues. The dialogue isn't sharp or insightful-it's just *words*, endless streams of them, filling the runtime without adding depth to the story or the characters. Conversations drag on for minutes, circling the same points without resolution, as if the screenwriter was paid by the word and refused to stop typing.

The characters are just as lifeless as the pacing. They stand around in dimly lit rooms, delivering lines with all the energy of someone reading a grocery list. There's no urgency in their voices, no real conflict in their interactions-just a never-ending cycle of half-baked philosophical musings and trivial observations. Even when the plot *should* pick up-when there's finally a hint of danger or a moment that could lead to action-the movie slams on the brakes, cutting away to another tedious conversation or a prolonged silence that adds nothing but runtime.

And then, just when you think something might *finally* happen-when a character picks up a weapon, when a mysterious figure appears in the distance-the movie cuts to another scene of people sitting at a table, talking. And talking. And *still talking*. There's no payoff, no release of tension, just more words piling up like a traffic jam of unnecessary exposition. Even the climax-if it can be called that-is a letdown, resolving in yet another conversation instead of the action the entire film has been teasing.

By the time the credits roll, the only emotion left is relief-relief that it's over, that no more time will be wasted watching characters do nothing and say everything without ever getting to the point. It's the kind of movie that makes you question why you didn't just turn it off halfway through, except that even walking away feels like it would require more energy than the film itself ever expended.

In the end, this isn't just a bad movie-it's an endurance test. A masterclass in how to drain all excitement, energy, and engagement from a story, leaving behind nothing but a hollow, tedious experience. It's the cinematic equivalent of watching grass grow, except grass doesn't talk. And in this case, silence would have been a mercy.