For moviegoers still reeling from the execrable Batman v. Superman, the latest installment of the Captain America franchise (Civil War) is here to redeem your faith in the superhero movie genre.
There’s more uniting the two movies than you’d guess from the intra-Avenger fisticuffs in the trailer. But Civil War takes on its dark themes with far more humanity and grace than Batman v. Superman was able to muster. This a movie that has its superheroes battle in ways that stay true to their individual characters and moral arcs, rather than turning them all into hyper-aggressive human monster trucks crashing into one another.
Directors Joe and Anthony Russo weave together threads and characters from many previous Marvel films into a sprawling narrative that doesn’t neglect individual stories. This film finds Captain America (Chris Evans) at odds with half his superhero allies when he resists government attempts to regulate superheroes. With the tension mounting, Cap goes AWOL to protect his friend Bucky (Sebastian Stan), who’s been turned into the brainwashed assassin the Winter Soldier. Bucky is trying to find a way to live with what he’s done and figure out who he is now—hard to do when a villain frames you for a terrorist attack and a half-dozen superheroes led by Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) are prepared to bring you into custody. When Cap recruits his own team to save Bucky, battles, betrayals, and bombshells ensue.
The conflict is not so much about the specifics of the superhero regulations (the Sokovia Accords, which are never fully explained in the movie, require the Avengers to submit to UN Security Council approval, among other things) as it is about trust. Cap trusts his instincts, trusts that his love for Bucky will be able to bring that lost soul back from the brink, and doesn’t trust that the government will make the right call. His entire philosophy is summed up a line paraphrased from the comics (but re-contextualized as a last message from Cap’s best gal Peggy Carter): “When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world, ‘No, you move.’”
Meanwhile Tony Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man, is grappling with guilt over the collateral damage he caused in previous superhero battles, and has lost his girlfriend Pepper because he won’t follow through on his promise to hang up his armor and retire. He can’t trust himself, and as a result he’s eager to hand power and responsibility over to other people. He’s seeking absolution by having a higher power take the wheel. Sadly for Cap, that power is the United Nations.
Neither character or side is totally wrong, nor totally right, and this ambiguity is part of the movie’s appeal. People with superpowers aren’t automatically trustworthy, nor are they wise decision-makers (as the characters themselves manage to make clear). But governments also have a terrible track record at using power responsibly, as is demonstrated in this movie when the Secretary of State orders Bucky to be shot on sight for a crime he didn’t commit.
What the initial conflict in the movie sets off and then tests are the genuine friendships that exist among these characters—friendships that have developed over several films. It means something for Black Widow to be at odds with Captain America when we’ve previously seen the spy and the super-soldier grow to respect and trust each other. Not to harp on the comparison, but this does seem more effective than Batman v. Superman’s approach, where Superman and Wonder Woman share a grand total of one exchange.
The Avengers in this movie aren’t perfect specimens of power. They’re shell-shocked saviors. They wear bright colors and have witty exchanges but are still painted as people buckling a little under the weight of the world. Without making them so detached from humanity that we lose sympathy with them (which was a problem for, you guessed it, Superman in Batman v. Superman), the writers portray the superheroes as unsure about their place in society. This is why they’ve formed surrogate families, mainly with other super-people, and why testing the bonds of those families is so painful. The film goes to some heartbreaking places, but in ways that feel earned—and there is enough light-heartedness and derring-do sprinkled in to make it feel balanced. (It even finds time to introduce an impressionable young Spider-Man who knows that with great power comes great responsibility, and a regal Black Panther who finally shuns the path of revenge that tempts him).
Like all recent superhero movies, Civil War tackles themes of responsibility, grief, and trauma. But it foregoes a clichéd, city-leveling climax and instead focuses on the humanity of its characters. It’s The Empire Strikes Back of the Marvel Cinematic Universe: it puts our heroes through a dramatic wringer, but leaves us a glimmer of hope. After all, if the Avengers, despite their struggles, have managed to inspire Spider-Man, then heroism must have a future in their universe.
