Anthony's MCU Binge: Phase Three, Part One!
“Did you forget I was doing this?” said young Anthony in October 2023, when a post about Phase Two of his MCU binge came three whole months after Phase One (and this introduction where I explain the popcorn ratings). I’m older and wiser now, so I’ll just assume you forgot, and carry on with Phase Three…Part One! The only post consisting entirely of movies I bothered to see in theaters! And with zero regrets!
Note: I’ve yet to see Black Panther 2, Thor 4, MCU Spidey 2, Guardians 3, Dr Strange 2 or Cap 4, so my takes here aren’t shaded any knowledge of their awesomesauce or awfulsauce. And I’m not judging the belated return of The Leader until I see it for myself! Which will probably be via streaming for a post in 2026. If we're lucky.
Captain America: Civil War (2016)
Iron Man, feeling guilty about that robot trying to conquer the world, and Captain America, who would never create such a thing even if he could, disagree on whether the United Nations should be in charge of the Avengers. The pair pick teams, bring in fresh recruits, have a battle royale and learn they might be helplessly hubristic assholes trapped inside their respective self-images. I used to argue that The Godfather Part II can’t be considered superior to The Godfather, because the weight of it can only be appreciated if you’ve memorized the first movie. I have to walk that back now, because Civil War is my favorite Marvel movie, and doesn’t make a bit of sense unless you’ve seen at least five previous entries in the megafranchise.
The film’s primary dilemma is remarkably layered for PG-13: the cocksure CEO is now afraid to be in charge (though he’s furious when people don’t accept his logic), while the Super Soldier believes following orders is only valiant if it’s by choice (despite knowing he’s distracted by personal interests). The old heroes' conflict with each other and themselves (goaded by Daniel Bruhl’s calmly contemptuous, equally self-certain Zemo) casts a forlorn pall over the film, when it’s not dramatically lifted by the new guys. It was remarkable enough that Mark Ruffalo was so immediately rewarding as the Hulk in The Avengers, but Chadwick Boseman’s Black Panther and Tom Holland’s Spider-Man, respectively poised and precocious portraits of youthful, heroic sincerity, earn the audience’s affection immediately, inspiring whoops the second they’re in uniform.
Between that pair and Paul Rudd’s Ant-Man - visually inspiring disbelief and adorably expressing it verbally - it might take a viewing or two to realize how on point the more familiar members of the ensemble are. Spock Jesus and Euro-Goth Chick are establishing their perversely wholesome chemistry when suddenly Arrow Dad shows up, and it’s fucking dope. The Falcon and War Machine might be interchangeable flying friends of the team leaders if Anthony Mackie and Don Cheadle weren’t applying their individually Oscar-level charisma to the roles. The mid-movie rumble in the evacuated airport is both conceptually absurd and absurdly rewarding: no rando aliens or robots or soldiers, just a dozen acrobats with distinct audio effects, aesthetics and attitudes, ricocheting off and surprising each other for our delight. An unmatchable smorgasbord of acting and action circling central characters miserable with power? It really is the goddamn Godfather Part II of super-hero movies. POPCORN CLASSIC.
Doctor Strange (2016)
A brilliant neurosurgeon, desperate to regain his fine-motor skills after a car crash, visits a mystical temple in Katmandu, becoming the best magician ever in record time. It was smart to release a stand-alone film after Civil War, and the surreal visuals do a lot to cloak how basic the story is (oddly enough, his sassiest sidekick is a cloak). There are two flaws that keep the film from being The Best MCU Origin Story, which - in terms of stunning, unpredictable setpieces - it could otherwise be. First, the cast is just a touch too good for the material. BBC’s Sherlock training under Tilda Swinton, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Benedict Wong to fight NBC’s Hannibal? While Rachel McAdams and Michael Stuhlbarg (in a ridiculous blond wig) wait back at the ER? None of them seem embarrassed, nor have any reason to be (Stuhlbarg aside). All give these comic book characters wit, emotional grey areas and grace notes with aplomb (again, Stuhlbarg aside, though I hear he’s redeemed in the second Strange movie). But when you’ve seen the level of aplomb (and fun!) all are capable of (again, this is Sherlock vs Hannibal!), White Privilege In The 8th Dimension can’t help but seem like small ball.
The second reason is implied by that jocular alternate title: this is the story of a white King Shit of Medicine going to Nepal and becoming King Shit Of The Ancient, Mystic Arts in less time than it took me to get an MBA. People debate whether it was a good idea to turn Kamar-Taj into a multicultural sorcery studio (Asians are the minority!), and even Kevin Feige regrets putting Swinton in Last Mindbender drag, taking a role that would have otherwise been James Hong’s (see Balls Of Fury for proof of concept). But either way, this was always going to be the story of a smug jerk already enjoying greatness and power, now achieving celestial greatness and power, succeeding where non-Americans had failed for centuries. Redeeming it (personally) are those setpieces, where CGI is used for intentional confusion and literally kaleidoscopic depth of detail. When computers replace practical effects, the joy of mouthing “how?” at the screen is erased. Doctor Strange is one of the few modern blockbusters that manages to replace “how?” with “what?” POPCORN CLASSIC.
Guardians Of The Galaxy, Vol. 2 (2017)
The rag-tag team of self-destructive space mercenaries learn Star-Lord’s daddy issues are a pretty big deal after all. If Warner Bros lucks out, James Gunn may go down as the canniest superhero filmmaker ever, not just grasping what Kevin Feige accomplished structurally with Marvel, but creatively capable of making audiences laugh, cry, and admit they've never seen anything quite like this before. Chris Pratt’s Peter “Star-Lord” Quill discovering dad is a sentient planet that can transform into Kurt Russell may be the biggest thing that happens in Vol. 2, and cause for the grandest visuals, but the subplots are anything but distracting busywork for the ensemble. Instead, the banter and battles of the other Guardians, from Nebula and Gamora coming to terms with their own daddy issues, or empath Mantis delighted to meet such a straightforward soul in Drax, are affirmation of the goofy, lovable universe of misfit toys Quill must finally treasure over Great Man Theory.
As with Strange, CGI means we know how we’re watching a whistle-controlled arrow or a cranky raccoon take out dozens of space pirates. But that doesn’t diminish the amusement or disbelief in what we’re shown. The opening sequence is an all-time “We know you know we know” Hollywood flourish, Gunn aware many of us would rather watch a tiny tree dance to “Mr. Blue Sky” than another cosmic laser-battle. But, instead of shaming those who’d prefer the traditional noise, or making the olds wish we’d gotten more whimsy, Gunn deftly provides us with memorable heaps of both. That’s the tricky part. POPCORN CLASSIC.
Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Peter Parker has a hard time re-adjusting to his friendly neighborhood adolescence after appearing in Civil War, aggravating his mentor Iron Man by stumbling onto a crime ring selling lethal props from the first Avengers movie. There’s a charming sense of scale here (those Captain America PSAs, omg), not just unique from the earlier MCU films but from the Netflix Defenders shows also set in NYC. Stuck spinning webs after school, Spidey’s city isn’t a cesspool of violence but a lively urban landscape where old ladies buy you a churro for giving them directions. Having the villains just as frustrated by the new super-normal is smart, and Michael Keaton is (once again) perfect as a bright, determined dude with a screw loose and a penchant for winged flair. Giving Iron Man an avuncular role after his meltdown in Civil War was also astute. None of the above would matter if Tom Holland’s Peter Parker wasn’t such a lovable dork, and if Holland wasn’t the rare British actor who can cry out in anguish without losing his character’s accent. His frantic "no, no, no, no, no!" is more affecting than the carnage that causes it. POPCORN CLASSIC.
Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
Thor and Hulk, the two Avengers who weren’t in Civil War, have an accidental meet-cute on a gladiator planet run by Jeff Goldblum, before trying to save Thor’s magical homeland from an unhinged, blade-throwing Cate Blanchett. Though rightly hailed as an atypically foxy Marvel movie upon release, the closest they’d come to sexy fun for grown-ups, Ragnarok is also the beginning of the end in terms of superhero fatigue. Where Civil War was the climactic culmination of multiple stories, Ragnarok expects a thorough knowledge of earlier movies just for you to understand why this sexy fun is happening. Sure, the script contains a lesson about how the people of a land are worth fighting for more than control of that land, with intimations that an empire’s bloody past will eventually come back to haunt it. But the vibe is so irrepressibly jaunty it’s hard for either stakes or subtext to really resonate. And neither the tone nor that hypothetical takeaway requires a Dr. Strange cameo.
Still, the MCU’s crimes against stand-alone narrative are rarely easier to forgive than they are here. Ragnarok takes mere minutes to be more entertaining than the entirety of The Dark World, to the visible delight of Chris Hemsworth, giving his most relaxed performance yet (for an Asgardian expected to live for several millennia, the 2010s were a time of considerable emotional growth for Thor). With Tessa Thompson so sexily self-confident as a rogue Valkyrie, Mark Ruffalo doing the Nutty Professor on steroids and anxiety meds, director Taika Waititi as a droll rock monster, Jeff Goldbum as Space Jeff Goldlbum, and Cate Blanchett going for Rocky Horror, Ragnarok has the spirit of a ‘60s caper movie despite the apocalyptic implications from the title down. The most affecting arc might be courtesy of Karl Urban’s hapless Skurge, the actor’s gift for slipping gravitas into superhuman surreality (that was his chin carrying Dredd) now well known thanks to The Boys. POPCORN CLASSIC.
Black Panther (2018)
Did I say that Civil War was my favorite MCU movie? I wrote that before revisiting Black Panther for the first time since the theaters, and I have to make an addendum. Civil War is my favorite Marvel qua Marvel movie. It’s the most Marvel movie. The Godfather Part II. But Black Panther is the kind of genre film some might squirm at calling a genre film (like The Searchers, or - hey! - The Godfather). It’s too conceptually daring, too inspired, too varied, too affecting, for some to see at as merely a Marvel flick. If your rule is that superhero movies suck, Black Panther is an easy exception. I’m not a fan of distinguishing between a favorite film and a best film, but delineating between the accomplishments of Civil War and Black Panther invites that.
Where Homecoming found Tom Holland’s Peter Parker anxious to return to the all-star excitement we met him in, Chadwick Boseman’s T’Challa shows zero desire for team-ups in Black Panther. The opening stretch of the film establishes the Afrofuturistic grandeur of his native Wakanda, director Ryan Coogler basking in an epic combination of historical tradition and bold imagination. Following is the black James Bond sequence of so many people’s dreams, the glamorous women at his side unobjectified and treated as equals, if not superiors. Then the modern world comes crashing into the utopia, Michael B. Jordan’s Killmonger uprooting the isolationist fantasy with seething, resentful critique. Up to this point, some could say Black Panther is barely a superhero movie, but rather a smarter, more soulful, and less escapist relative of Star Wars or Dune. But the climax, with two Black Panthers duking it out among the gladiators and jetfighters and badass little sisters with laser-beam gloves, is most definitely from a superhero movie. Just an outstanding one.
I never read a single Black Panther comic as a kid, but Coogler did. Working with co-writer Joe Robert Cole, he expertly built upon the work of writers like Don McGregor, Christopher Priest and Reginald Hudlin to define a character often misused by just about everyone else (including creators Stan Lee & Jack Kirby). Non-nerds will be shocked to learn Ulysses Klaue (played with psychotic relish by Andy Serkis) was a red bell pepper named Klaw in the comics. Or that M’Baku, so roaringly regal a warrior in Winston Duke’s hands, was…Man-Ape. Granted, the MCU had already established a template of artful adaptations that merit a four-quadrant audience. But Coogler doesn’t merely provide the novelty of a large ensemble of black actors in quality, big-budget action setpieces (though that would be reward enough, and he does provide it). Black Panther conveys the emotional conflict caused when pride and privilege is prioritized over the greater good, the difficulty of knowing which choice you’ve made, and what’s required to maintain pride after realizing you chose poorly. So, yeah…it’s the best. POPCORN CLASSIC.
Anthony's MCU Binge Will Return...
And if you have any comments, queries, or quibbles, there's always anthonyisright at gmail dot com. Excelsior!