Marvel’s Thunderbolts* shines a light on men’s mental illness – but falls down with this outdated plotline
- Written by The Conversation
This piece contains spoilers.
Marvel’s men are sad. And that’s a good thing.
Thor’s depressed in Avengers: Endgame. Tony Stark has panic attacks in Iron Man 3. Peter grieves in Spider-Man: No Way Home.
In Marvel’s latest release Thunderbolts* (or The New Avengers), we finally see a male superhero seek advice on how to deal with mental illness.
The only problem? His impromptu therapist is a woman he’s only just met.
A blanket of darkness
Bob Reynolds (Lewis Pullman) is a new and damaged superhero experiment. Bob believes the world might be better off without him – foreshadowing that he’s not entirely wrong.
Bob turns to Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh) for help. Yelena understands, saying “that darkness gets pretty enticing”. As she struggles to describe the feeling, Bob supplies the word: a void.
Yelena offers a survival tactic: push the darkness deep down and carry on. It’s terrible advice and they both know it. But in that moment, it’s honest, and it connects them.
Thunderbolts explores suicidal thoughts, PTSD and bipolar disorder. Bob speaks of the euphoric highs and shattering lows he experiences, often resulting in blackouts. His mental illness becomes metaphoric: his internal darkness manifests in his powers, and he becomes the villainous superpower of the film.
Some of the film handles these themes well. Bob’s bipolar spreads into a dangerous blanket of darkness into which others, literally, vanish. At the film’s climax, Bob battles the dark, depressed version of himself. He beats himself up, seeking to beat the evil version of himself and, metaphorically, his mental illness. It doesn’t work. The darkness spreads to his stable self, too.
But Yelena and the Thunderbolts fight their way to him, embracing him in a hug, and their support gives him the strength to confront his trauma.
Women as emotional supports
Done well, positive depictions of mental health struggles can be important pieces of representation.
Unfortunately, most mental health depictions in major films are not done well, when they are included at all. Accurate portrayals of bipolar disorder remain rare. Research shows on young adult literature continues to lack mental health representation, especially by authors with lived experience.
Across Hollywood, from Rey saving Kylo Ren in Star Wars to Beauty fixing the Beast, women are constantly cast as emotional supports for men.
This is also true throughout the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The Black Widow offers the Hulk her hand; Tony Stark punches him to sleep. Scarlet Witch is forced to carry her grief for Vision. In Thunderbolts, Yelena becomes the latest emotional ballast for a traumatised man.
These women take these roles despite their own troubles, often without support or recognition from their male counterparts.
Yelena steps into the dark emanating from Bob, believing her own struggles will allow her to help him. It’s poignant and beautiful in a way. Those who have walked through hell know the pathway through.
But it’s also troubling.
To save Bob from himself, she must risk her body, mind and mental wellbeing. Alone, her flashbacks become real as she comes face to face with her childhood trauma, undergoing psychological torture at Bob’s hands to reach him.
The weight of emotional labour
Yelena’s actions aren’t just a trope. They reflect a broader cultural script where women are expected to take on emotional responsibility not just for themselves but also for the men around them.
Women are taught to care about others. At home and at work, the emotional labour undertaken by women often goes unnoticed, but it comes with real costs: stress, burnout and self-neglect.
As men struggle with loneliness and a lack of friendships, women are expected to fill that gap. This dynamic, sometimes called “mankeeping”, leaves women doing the emotional work of informal therapy without support or reciprocity.
Taking on these informal therapist roles results in disempowerment and dissatisfaction.
The film’s depiction of Bob’s mental health issues has positive aspects: it goes against the pressure to conform to traditional ideas of masculinity, where men are taught to suppress their emotions and be stoic. Bob is allowed to be vulnerable and ask for help, and, despite his actions, is still shown to be worth helping.
A significant number of young men who follow masculinity influencers believe they need to be stoic and control their emotions and that women should occupy traditional gender roles, being soft, nurturing, motherly and supportive.
These beliefs can not only discourage men from seeking professional help: they set women up to carry the emotional burden in relationships, often at great personal cost.
Addressing mental health
Toxic masculinity is well and truly alive, but women aren’t the answer to it.
Addressing mental health issues effectively requires a multifaceted approach that includes professional intervention, personal responsibility and mutual support within relationships.
Thunderbolts gestures toward progress, but doesn’t quite escape old tropes. Bob’s pain is real, but it’s also weaponised. His mental illness becomes a threat, and his instability something others must contain.
The film acknowledges he’s struggling, but ultimately treats his struggle as dangerous as his void-like inner turbulence is unleashed on those around him. It’s a reflection of a broader cultural pattern: when men’s emotional pain is left unaddressed, it festers, and women are often expected to absorb the cost.
We’re left with a troubling question: in the stories we tell, are we promising struggling young men a fairytale ending of romance and self-sacrifice in the shape of a young woman coming to save them from themselves?
If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.
