It would be remiss not to say it outright, so here we go: Brave New World is not a Captain America movie. It’s a movie with Captain America in it. Maybe that sounds like semantics, but Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) is by no means the focal character of this film. So all that really remains is to ask ourselves: Why?
We’re not gonna like any of the answers much.
The plot to Captain America: Brave New World is predictable in its placeholder status for forthcoming Marvel projects: Thaddeus Ross (Harrison Ford, recast after the death of William Hurt) is now (somehow) President of the United States, and is determined to get a treaty signed that will define his legacy as president. Said treaty revolves around Celestial Island—you know, that thing that emerged from the sea at the end of The Eternals and broke the planet’s crust but is somehow not affecting the seismology of the Earth in any way whatsoever, and yes, I will be on about that for the rest of my life—where they’ve discovered a new metal compound that will rival vibranium for its ability to aid humanity in the development of technology and medicine and defense.
You get one guess as to what that metal compound is. I promise, it’s not hard.
The film utterly ignores the fact that the discovery of adamantium shifts the balance of power on Earth in such a way that undercuts Wakanda entirely, because Wakanda is only a player on the world stage in films that focus on Wakanda, and Marvel doesn’t seem to see any problem with that whatsoever. The only mention of Wakanda in this film comes with mentions of vibranium, most often in relation to the fact that Sam Wilson’s Captain America suit was made by the Wakandans especially for him. That is the extent of their importance as far as this story is concerned.
Back to President Ross… not because I want to go back to him, mind you. Only because the movie goes back to him in every chance it gets. This isn’t a Captain America movie: It’s a Thaddeus Ross movie. What for, you ask? Well, to answer an all important question: Can people truly change?
Thaddeus Ross started his tenure in the MCU as the antagonist in The Incredible Hulk, the man who caused the destruction of Harlem when he unleashed the Abomination to fight the Hulk, after a series of terrible military decisions. While Ross always had a reputation as a man with an outsized and inappropriate temper, he managed to maintain enough power to be one of the architects of the Sokovia Accords—demanding oversight over the Avengers and effectively tearing the team apart. We’re not meant to like Ross because he’s an angry and overall violent man as depicted. He’s exactly the kind of fellow you don’t want in charge of your military operations: hot-headed, quick to judge, and convinced of his own unassailable correctitude.
What we learn is that Ross hasn’t spoken to his daughter Betty (Liv Tyler) since the events of The Incredible Hulk. His hunting of her then-boyfriend, Bruce Banner, created a rift between that two that has never resolved. Ross’ main desire in his presidency is letting the world—and therefore his daughter—know that he’s changed. He tells Sam later in the film that he needs Betty to know that he’s still the man who took her to see the cherry blossoms in her childhood. The film doesn’t want to dive into truths of familial estrangement though; after all, it’s incredibly rare for a person to cut off a family member (especially a parent) over a single indiscretion, no matter how outsized it may be. That lack of further context rings loud over every mention of Betty for anyone who knows these dynamics all too well. She hasn’t spoken to her father in 17 years: Bruce Banner isn’t the reason for that. He was just the last straw.
Of course the treaty is destined to go awry due to the mistakes of Ross’ past. Of course those mistakes tie directly into the events of The Incredible Hulk for the purpose of not having to create any new story (and to bring back Tim Blake Nelson as Samuel Sterns after wasting him the first time around). Of course these moments all manage to embroil Isaiah Bradley (Carl Lumbly) in yet another government plot that nearly steals his life.
Ah, right, that needs explaining for anyone who didn’t bother to watch Falcon and the Winter Soldier. For those who need catching up: Isaiah Bradley was a Black super soldier who served during the Korean War and ran afoul of the U.S. government when he chose to rescue other Black super soldiers who were being held prisoner (i.e. doing exactly what Steve Rogers did when he went rogue and rescued the Howling Commandos). For his disobedience, Isaiah is held and experimented on for 30 years by the government, and erased from the record, only able to escape when a nurse faked his death. Sam Wilson finds Isaiah in the television series, learns his story, and the two argue about whether or not Sam should take up the Captain America mantle. Isaiah is adamant in his distrust of the American government and rails against Sam for even considering it. Their disagreements are some of the only well-conceived points in the show where it felt as though the creative team had any intentions of considering the wooly questions surrounding Sam’s decision to take up the shield.
Isaiah is used as an unknowing sleeper agent in this story, brutalized all over again while Sam works tirelessly to defend and exonerate him. But there’s a key difference in this tale when juxtaposed with the former one: all of Isaiah’s anger seems to have been excised from the character. He spends the majority of the film terrified, in need of Sam’s rescue.
Who can say why the filmmakers thought that showing a Black man furious at the government (without any villainous overtones to his character) was not something they wanted to showcase in their blockbuster movie, right? Who can possibly say why that choice was made.
One thing’s for certain, though: Marvel Studios is well aware that far fewer people watch their television shows than their films.
Guess that explains why Sam doesn’t get focus in a movie with his character’s name plastered on it. They already did that work in the TV show, see? You know, the thing that the majority of filmgoers aren’t gonna bother watching. So we don’t need to spend much time with Sam Wilson unless he’s joking around with Joaquin Torres (Danny Ramirez) or doing elaborate fight sequences that prove he’s just as tough as Steve Rogers. It’s an action movie, after all.
And it’s so disappointing because in the few moments where they allow Sam Wilson to be a whole human being and share how he’s feeling in any given situation—that’s when it feels like a Captain America movie. A story about what it means to uphold a very confusing mantle that bludgeons the wearer regardless of their intentions. Unfortunately, Disney and Marvel don’t want to acknowledge the mere suggestion that the Captain America legacy could be complicated. They want something cut and dry that can’t possibly offend the largest quantity of people. That’s how blockbusters are made.
There are other telling cues sprinkled throughout the film that can’t help but feel far too pointed in the timing. Like the fact that Ross’ head of security is a former Black Widow from Israel. Or the U.S. having yet another invisible prison where Ross keeps prisoners without hope of trial or release. Or Ross’ first presidential speech calling on the importance of “Togetherness” as though that’s something that any American is feeling right now.
This is without getting into the film’s many simple movie-making and scripting weaknesses, among them: an absolute waste of Giancarlo Esposito; egregious overuse of single emotional conversations as stand-ins for a movie’s worth of character development (wow, those cherry blossoms are important); the speech where Stern tries to goad Ross into a transformation, which is written exactly like the Emperor bugging Luke Skywalker into turning to the Dark Side; the number of times characters say “mind-control” like it’s just a dang useful descriptor we should all accept without acknowledging the mechanics of mental conditioning (the MCU has done this already and much better! that’s what the entire Winter Soldier arc was); asking Harrison flipping Ford to step into a character who has the depth of a puddle, as though he could save it on sheer gravitas.
And all of this to have Captain America—this Captain America—stand in front of Hollywood’s favorite old white guy and tell him that we all have to believe in the good in one another. Because people can change. Because the people who need to hear that message are obviously guys who look like Thunderbolt Ross.
Can Thaddeus Ross change? Perhaps, but the film doesn’t seem to have the slightest grasp on what true change is. Maybe he’s making an effort to be kinder, wiser, more patient, but it takes the entire length of this movie, a Hulk-out, and untold collateral damage for President Ross to start considering the one thing about himself he never bothered to change or challenge: His pride.
Sound familiar, Marvel?
