A Marvel Film About The Struggle Within

Introduction

Marvel films have given us gods, kings, and soldiers who save the world by conquering enemies. But Thunderbolts quietly tells us something no superhero film has dared to say: not everything can or should be conquered. Some storms cannot be silenced. Some battles must simply be endured.

In Thunderbolts, Bob (The Sentry) and his dark other half (the Void) offer a different philosophy. The film does not follow the traditional road of “defeat the villain, heal the hero.” It asks a more difficult, more human question: What if healing is not possible? What if the best we can offer someone trapped in suffering is not rescue, but company?

The Sentry and the Void: A Co-existence of Opposites

Bob is both a shining protector and a walking wound. The experiment that gave him powers did not turn him into a god; it split him into two. One part saves the world. The other, the Void, wants to burn it down.

Traditional stories would frame this as a problem to be solved. But Thunderbolts does something rare. It suggests that Bob is not broken in a way that can be “fixed.” His two halves are locked in permanent struggle. One will never fully win over the other.

This idea takes us away from the usual therapy model of mental health, which says pain must be removed. The film quietly suggests: maybe the goal is not to erase the pain, but to survive alongside it.

The Team as Witnesses, Not Rescuers

The Thunderbolts do not try to “cure” Bob. They do not offer him a grand solution. They do something far more radical: they walk into the terrifying storm of his mind and they stay.

In one unforgettable scene, Bob retreats into a memory of his childhood bedroom. It is a heartbreaking symbol. When the world becomes unsafe, we return to the place of first pain because at least it is familiar. Bob does not want to be saved. He does not believe he can be saved.

Yelena Belova reaches him not by preaching or problem-solving, but by sharing her own pain. In that moment, she becomes what philosopher Judith Butler would call “a co-sufferer”—someone whose very presence says, “You are not unbearable to me.”

A Theory of Survival: Beyond Resilience

Much of mental health writing today uses the language of resilience: the ability to bounce back. Ann Masten calls it “ordinary magic,” the normal human strength to adapt under stress.

But Thunderbolts pushes the idea further. What happens when there is no bouncing back? When the wound does not close? The film gives us an answer: endurance. Bob does not rise like a phoenix. He drags himself, inch by inch, back toward life because others refused to leave.

The film shows a new kind of survival: not recovery, but the refusal to disappear. It argues that presence itself—imperfect, exhausted, but constant—is the real magic.

Staying as an Act of Rebellion

In the age of quick fixes, professional help lines, and social media therapy mantras, Thunderbolts gives a shocking message: there is no shortcut. Sometimes the only thing we can offer someone drowning in darkness is to sit beside them in the cold water.

Staying is a form of rebellion. It goes against the logic of progress and success. It says, “Even if you never get better, even if the night lasts forever, I will not walk away.” That is the hidden superpower of the Thunderbolts.

A Quiet but Honest Message on Mental Health

Thunderbolts gives us a rare truth often missing from mental health conversations: that not every struggle has a happy ending. Therapy, medication, and support systems help, but they do not erase pain like magic. For many, mental illness becomes a companion that must be lived with, not defeated.

The film does not glorify suffering, but it normalises the idea that survival itself is valuable. It recognises that shame and silence worsen mental health crises. The team’s act of staying becomes a lesson: the greatest kindness we can give someone in pain is not advice, but acceptance.

By showing the messy, non-linear nature of mental illness and recovery, Thunderbolts becomes more than a superhero film. It becomes a mirror for the millions living quietly with depression, anxiety, trauma, and grief.

The Ending: No Victory, No Closure

In the final moments, Bob is not healed. The Void still exists, perhaps forever. But Bob stands. He is alive. The city breathes again. There is no music swelling in triumph. Just quiet survival.

This ending is revolutionary for superhero cinema. It accepts that some struggles have no “closure.” Life goes on. The darkness does not vanish; it just grows quieter for now.

The film whispers what we rarely hear: survival itself is heroic.

Conclusion

Thunderbolts is the first Marvel film that understands the truth most people living with chronic pain, trauma, or mental illness already know: healing is not a line from broken to fixed. It is a circle of falling and standing, falling and standing, over and over.

The Sentry does not inspire us because he wins. He inspires us because he keeps standing when there is no guarantee of winning.

The film teaches us something we forget too easily: the greatest hero is not the one who saves others, but the one who stays.

Disha is a Ph.D. Scholar & Senior Research Fellow at Dr. K. R. Narayanan Centre for Dalit and Minorities Studies, Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi, India (ORCID: https://orcid.org/0009-0006-7124-9438)