Thunderbolts* – The Asterisk Strikes Back (Mark Kermode’s superhero film review).

Mark Kermode is here to review Marvel’s latest cinematic gamble, Thunderbolts (asterisk very much included), which has crash-landed in cinemas like a flaming helicarrier full of therapy-resistant misfits, sarcasm, and, surprisingly, heart. It’s the 36th instalment in the MCU, though by this point you’d be forgiven for assuming the studio was generating new superheroes via AI and mild panic.

This ragtag epic sees Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh, still marvellously unimpressed by everything) lead a crew of disgraced government projects, discarded supers, and one traumatised man-god called Bob. Together, they’re sent on what’s clearly a suicide mission—but with worse HR oversight than The Boys and significantly more leather. Things promptly go sideways when Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus, chewing scenery like it owes her money) attempts to kill them all to cover up a mildly apocalyptic scandal involving a sentient glowstick named the Sentry.

The film kicks off in Malaysia with a suspicious lab explosion, progresses through a betrayal-filled mission in an underground murder maze, and concludes with a literal battle between light and darkness in New York. Bob, formerly just a government guinea pig with amnesia, becomes Marvel’s answer to a radioactive Jesus, plagued by an evil alter ego called the Void. Meanwhile, the team learns that friendship is magic, emotional trauma is inevitable, and rebranding is everything.

Director Jake Schreier clearly took one look at The Suicide Squad and Reservoir Dogs and said, “Yes, but what if we threw in Pixies music, Eastern European dads, and a cataclysmic identity crisis?” The result is a film that leans hard into Marvel’s “we’re self-aware now” era, complete with gritty team bonding, a Wheaties box poster, and the best use of an asterisk since footnotes were invented.

Sebastian Stan’s Bucky Barnes plays group therapist/reluctant dad to a murder-prone daycare, Wyatt Russell’s John Walker remains the most punchable patriot in the MCU, and David Harbour’s Red Guardian continues his glorious evolution into a vodka-powered punchline machine. But it’s Florence Pugh who keeps the whole thing together—balancing action, grief, and bone-dry wit with the ease of someone who knows exactly how ridiculous this all is.

And that title—Thunderbolts—with the star-shaped footnote? It pays off in the end, cheekily pivoting into “New Avengers” territory after Val finesses the PR spin of the century. Turns out all it takes to be an Avenger now is surviving your own movie and tolerating Bucky Barnes’s moody silences.

Critics have largely embraced the film’s “Guardians of the Grumpalaxy” vibe, praising its performances, character work, and the rare inclusion of emotional stakes in a superhero film not featuring time travel, multiverse cameos, or a three-hour runtime. Rotten Tomatoes sits at a healthy 88%, though some reviewers have bemoaned the “dour tone” and “narrative convolution” like they weren’t watching a franchise where a talking raccoon and a Norse god once opened a wormhole to punch a purple titan.

Here at SFcrowsnest, we applaud Marvel for finally embracing the messy, slightly existential weirdness that’s been bubbling under the surface of the MCU for years. Thunderbolts may not be the sleekest ship in the fleet, but it sails on a sea of character chaos, sarcasm, and just enough heart to keep us onboard.

Also, we now demand all Marvel teams have cereal box posters. Your move, Fantastic Four.