"Thunderbolts*" Opened My Own Mental Void

Warning: Spoilers ahead for Marvel Studios’ Thunderbolts*

It is rare you will catch me crying in a movie. It’s not for a lack of cinematic achievement, I have just always had trouble crying in films. Maybe it’s that I see them as art and not always “real". Maybe it’s that I am so privy to the Hollywood-sphere by watching trailers and reading the trades that, no matter the quality, I always keep films at an arm's length. Or, and this is even more possible, I’m broken. All this to say, if any movie was going to finally kick my waterworks into high gear, it sure wasn’t going to be a Marvel flick. Color me shocked when a recent trip to the theater left me wrecked beyond belief.

Thunderbolts*, the newest MCU joint, brings together a variety of “less-than" humans and heroes and places them on death’s doorstep, leading them to band together to fight back against an even greater evil. Julia Louis Dreyfus also appears, which is important to note, because thank god. The film’s hype machine and marketing materials led with the return of Florence Pugh as Yelena (Yippee!), Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes (Huzzah!), and the fact that the film has a bucket of indie film pedigree behind it. (The A24 trailer remains a camp fest.)

Before I headed to the theater Saturday night, I had already heard rumblings of the film’s deeper meanings. While the great reviews thrilled me as a Marvel fanatic who is well aware that the franchise needed a shot in the arm, the idea that the film had a stronger message to get across was quite interesting. I’ve always been a strong proponent of the MCU films with a clear point-of-view (Black Panther, Captain America: Winter Soldier, etc.) over those that only set out to be a cog in the machine. With the expectations properly set, I went in for a fun time, some Pugh quips, a healthy dose of JLD, and some Ant-Man adjacent content.

Cut to an hour and 45 minutes into the film’s runtime and I was a sobbing mess. I grabbed my friend’s hand next to me, as if to steady myself from the onslaught of emotion that was finally being forced out of my body. Just as Yelena mentioned earlier on, I had been pushing it down for too long. After the cry ended, I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself in the darkness of the theater. Did a Marvel movie just make me cry? Like, an embarrassing amount?

With the introduction of Bob/Sentry/The Void, a larger conversation about trauma/depression/mental health also entered the MCU equation. The Thunderbolts, made up of five individuals whose lives have been less-than-stellar considering their superhuman attributes, have dealt with a lot individually. Thanks to Bob’s unknown powers, most of this group were brought back to relive these core moments that shaped their mental state for decades. Yelena helped to kill a childhood friend during training, US Agent’s public downfall led to marital strife, and Contessa witnessed her father get shot on their front porch. None of these events are something anyone would want to relive, yet Bob replayed them for each individual like a broken DVD player.

As the story of Sentry/The Void progresses, we see that the harm he’s inflicting on others stems from the harm he’s inflicting on himself. The loneliness. The inability to feel worthy of existence. When it was first presented in the film, I got immediate chills. Watching my own struggles through a superhero filter somehow hit harder. Self-loathing is a wicked drug, especially as expectations require you to slap on a happy face and move on. Yet, sometimes, moving on is the hardest part. With or without a handshake from Sentry, the worst parts of the past replay over and over, reminding you of every single one of your flaws. Your overthinking is valid. You don’t have a purpose. You are lonely. It will never change. It will never change. It will never change.

As the darkness of The Void looks to overtake Bob, he tries to conquer it alone. Quickly, Yelena comes into frame from across an ever-growing hallway. Not with a physical tactic to take down this shadowy creature, but instead, a hug. The knowledge that someone is right next door. Not only are they here to talk, but they are going through the same mental crisis themselves. Alone is not the path forward, but instead, together. No longer pushing it down, but using words to describe and fix it.

I have seen many indie films using mental health as the crux of their narrative. The need for stories about mental health struggles will always remain. Yet, there’s something about seeing it in such a fantastical, imaginative fashion that absolutely broke me. For some, it might be too on-the-nose, and I can’t fault them for their opinion. Yet, watching these physical manifestations of every struggle I’ve dealt with for years was so…freeing.

And so, I sobbed. As if Florence Pugh herself stepped off screen and flipped a switch within my body, it all came out. Days and weeks and months of doubt and depression flowing out of my eyes and heart, finally being able to escape from the clutches of the cages of my own making. How lucky am I that I had my own Yelena, my best friend, sitting beside me to give me a hand to hold during this moment. My own 4D film. As he grabbed tighter and tighter, the tears continued. With each squeeze, the knowledge that someone has my back through it all. Together.

My struggles didn’t go away the moment I left the theater. They still aren’t gone today as I type this. If only it was that easy. I know that there is a path towards being my own Bob, sitting on a recliner, looking at the city below, able to breathe a little bit lighter. Will The Void be nearby? Of course. C’est la vie. Yet, with each passing day, knowing the power of those around me and the freedom of speaking about the pain will lead to brighter moments keeps me steady. Thunderbolts* has left me with the profound knowledge that when the shadows are creepy back up, I must find my own Yelena.

Thunderbolts* is in theaters now.