Can Someone Explain Why I Need To Care About Thunderbolts?
When Florence Pugh—who is quickly becoming the face of gritty, emotionally intelligent cinema—describes the upcoming Thunderbolts film as a “badass indie, A24-feeling assassin movie with Marvel superheroes,” it’s a statement that sounds as though it was constructed in a dark, velvet-lined room of a PR agency, tapping into everything that cinephiles love to claim they value: indie cred, heightened atmosphere, “real” stakes, and a marginally ironic detachment from the superhero genre. And yet, the more you think about it, the less this idea holds up, both as a description of Thunderbolts and as an embodiment of where cinema, specifically the superhero genre, is heading.
Now, I like Florence Pugh. A lot. Her performances in Midsommar and Little Women are examples of her ability to both ground and transcend whatever material she’s working with. There’s a rawness to her that, when paired with Thunderbolts’ sprawling Marvel universe, suggests something daring is possible, something that might break out of the cookie-cutter Marvel mold. Likewise, David Harbour and Sebastian Stan are also excellent choices, leaning into the humor and vulnerability that have become trademarks of their characters. All of these actors bring charisma to the table, no question. But let's take a step back here—did Florence Pugh just suggest that Thunderbolts might actually be this year's gritty indie hit with some offbeat, arthouse DNA?
Let’s address this notion of an "A24-feeling" movie. A24, once the beloved, scrappy indie distributor known for films like The Witch and Lady Bird, has evolved. The studio is now less a haven for the outsider artist and more a brand—a stylistic touchstone that signifies a certain sort of “weirdness” that can now be packaged and commodified. In 2025, when you see an A24 logo before a film, you’re not so much seeing an underdog's journey but the marketing equivalent of a silver spoon. A24 has become a symbol, an aesthetic choice for movies that want to feel edgier and more intellectual without the genuine poverty of production values that once defined independent cinema. So, is A24 still the scrappy indie studio we used to think of?
Not really. And that’s part of the confusion when we hear Thunderbolts described as such. Superhero movies, especially those shooting out of the MCU cannon, are everything but scrappy. These films are the hyper-polished, aggressively monetized juggernauts of Hollywood. The amount of CGI and multimillion-dollar sets involved in a movie like Thunderbolts makes any notion of it feeling "indie" more of a fantasy than a reality. It's hard to imagine Florence Pugh in a stripped-down, low-budget assassination film where she’s wearing the same coat for the entire 90 minutes. Maybe she’d be doing her own stunts. But that’s not what Thunderbolts is about. This is a film that will be competing for eyeballs against 17 other superhero films in a year's time, and that’s not the space where real indie grit thrives.
The question then becomes: Why even lean into the A24 comparison at all? It’s no secret that the superhero genre has become the center of cinematic discourse, much to the chagrin of directors like Martin Scorsese, who famously argued that superhero films are not "cinema." The comparison of Thunderbolts to an A24 film almost feels like an answer to Scorsese, as if Marvel is looking for a way to have it both ways. "You say superhero movies aren't 'real' cinema? Well, here’s one that has the feel of one of those smart, indie films you love." It’s almost as though they're trying to make the argument that Marvel films can be both populist and sophisticated, simultaneously packing emotional punch while still being mass-market entertainment.
But this raises another question: Why are we marketing Thunderbolts to cinephiles? The whole reason superhero films are so widely loved is their mass appeal, and for them to suddenly be rebranded as something “smart” feels like a bit of a misstep. Is anyone actually clamoring for a superhero movie that's indie in its tone? Or is this just a marketing angle designed to appeal to a demographic that doesn't even want to see another superhero movie to begin with?
The cynic in me says that this is all part of a larger, very calculated strategy. The A24 reference isn't necessarily about the actual aesthetic of the movie—it’s about capturing the zeitgeist of cultural relevancy. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that A24 was the darling of the film world, synonymous with films that made you think and feel in ways that were considered "alternative." By invoking that branding, Thunderbolts is trying to attract a certain crowd that might otherwise dismiss it as just another cash grab. It's an appeal to the “cinematic elite,” the people who think they’re too good for popcorn flicks, and a reminder that the superhero genre can be grown-up too.
Ultimately, what’s most telling is that the very act of marketing a Marvel film this way reveals the larger tension at play: the idea that superhero films can be something more than they’ve always been. It’s a narrative that feels awkwardly forced in places, but it's also a sign of just how much superhero movies need to evolve—or at least look like they’re evolving—if they’re going to maintain cultural relevance in an increasingly sophisticated landscape of filmgoers who demand more than just shiny explosions and quippy one-liners.
So, is Thunderbolts an A24-style indie assassin movie with Marvel superheroes? It’s hard to say. But what we do know for sure is that Thunderbolts will be marketed with one foot firmly planted in indie cred, and the other in the vast expanse of the superhero multiverse. Whether or not it succeeds in being a film that actually feels “indie,” well, that’s something we’ll have to wait and see. But let’s not kid ourselves into thinking A24-style scrappiness is part of the plan here. Instead, we’re witnessing the evolution of the superhero film, where even the fluffiest of capes wants to be seen as intellectual.
