Avengers: Endgame - Sacrifice, Worthiness, & Redemption

If there’s one thing the Marvel Cinematic Universe has gotten right in its eleven years and twenty-two movies, it’s the characters. Put aside any of the plot or action set pieces and you still have the one thing that audiences keep throwing their money at the franchise for: love and care for the Marvel heroes. It’s nearly impossible not to have become invested in at least a couple of them due to the sheer number of appearances that these characters have made. Pair that with the luxury of being able to see them grow, change, struggle, and learn thanks to a form of serialized storytelling never before seen in film, and it’s easy to see why fans of the MCU are so devoted to the point of rabidness. 

So the mere concept of both Avengers: Infinity War and it’s immediate partner, Avengers: Endgame, seems like such a daunting, if not a nearly unachievable, task. They’re the culmination of everything that’s come before, the sheer scale of them, coupled with the massive amount of characters, instantly turns the two into the largest movies ever made, and on top of all that, they have to serve as the end of the universe in its current iteration, and end the stories of some of its main characters. Endgame miraculously pulls these feats off (for the most part), delivering a cinematic experience that is both awe-inspiring, thematically intriguing, and emotionally (oh boy is it emotional) resonant. It achieves this by bringing these beloved characters to their lowest points yet, setting the stage for their ultimate acts of redemption. It’s a nearly perfect end to this first long chapter of the Marvel Universe, and an ushering in of a bold new one. 

Endgame is the final film for both Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, the two leading men of the franchise thus far, and the pair have always existed as both sides of the same coin. Their different outlooks and approaches to heroism and solving the world’s problems have constantly gelled together (when they’re not coming into conflict with one another). So it’s only fitting that their arcs and respective stories come to their conclusions in thematically similar ways. For Tony, it’s a final act of true selflessness. For Steve, it’s a choice that finally serves his well-deserved self-interest. 

“That’s how dad did it, that’s how America does it”

“The greater good has rarely outweighed my own self-interest.” says Howard Stark in one of Endgame’s most poignant scenes. It’s a statement that holds true for his son as well. Tony was an arms dealer, one who flaunted his enormous wealth, power, and arrogance at every opportunity. His hero’s journey began with a moment of poetic irony: A bomb that literally has his name on it nearly kills him, leading to him learning the true, bloody nature of his life and career thus far. Yinsen, the man who saves Tony’s life and alters his perspective, leaves him with a plea that he won’t waste his life any further - that he’ll make the absolute most out of the gifts he’s been given.

But while Tony does make amends by shutting down his company’s weapon manufacturing, his need to do more, to fix problems and come up with solutions, ends up creating the ultimate weapon of all: Iron Man. “In the last six months, Anthony Stark has created a sword with untold possibilities. And yet, he insists it’s a shield. He asks us to trust him as we cower behind it. I wish I were comforted, I’d love to leave my door unlocked when I leave the house, but we live in a world of grave threats, threats that Mr. Stark will not always be able to foresee.” This is said by Justin Hammer at the start of Iron Man 2, and while Hammer is a villain, in this instance, he is absolutely correct.

Iron Man may make some aspects of life safer (“I have successfully privatized world peace.” Tony tells Congress at one point), but it becomes apparent that the mere existence of him also makes the world more dangerous. “Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe.” Vision eloquently puts in Civil War. Despite the events of Iron Man 2, when we next see Tony in The Avengers, he’s seemingly unconcerned with potential threats, thinking that Iron Man can handle whatever may be thrown his way. The Avengers is the first time Tony’s new sense of heroism and safety is actually challenged, not just by the arrival of an alien invasion, but by Captain America.

”I’m just not the hero type. Clearly.”

“You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play. To lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you. I’ve seen the footage. The only person you fight for is yourself.” Steve calls Tony out on how his newfound heroism is nothing more than a facade. It’s a way to make himself better and ease his guilt without giving up his luxurious life, status, or power. But Tony is able to prove Steve wrong during the Battle of New York, flying a nuclear warhead through the alien portal to end the fight, a truly heroic act that’s seemingly a one-way trip. This sacrifice serves as a precursor of how Tony’s journey ends in Endgame, so much so that his life could’ve ended here and the character’s purpose would have still been adequately served. But Tony ends up surviving the ordeal, sending his life on a different path. 

Tony’s near-death experience and the images imprinted on his mind from it change the course of his life, and instill a real sense of urgency to his heroism. Remember, he’s the only one who saw the actual extent of Loki / Thanos’ army out in space, and so is the only one to know that if it weren’t for the luck of that nuke, they would have lost the battle. He starts obsessing over protecting the planet from potential danger, and more specifically, protecting his loved ones. “Threat is imminent, and I have to protect the one thing I can’t live without. That’s you.” he tells Pepper in Iron Man 3. Tony creates new suits and Iron Men at a disturbingly rapid pace to try and combat the upcoming storm, setting the stage for the creation of Ultron, his vision of a “suit of armor around the world”, and his worst mistake. 

Starting with Age of Ultron, Tony Stark becomes a de facto villain of the MCU. His desperateness to protect the world and be proactive in dealing with threats is his undoing. The creation of Ultron leads to the destruction of Sokovia, which creates the Sokovia Accords, which Tony backs (due to more guilt), leading to the end of the Avengers. His attempts to preemptively save the planet only create bigger problems, and these mistakes inadvertently hand Thanos his victory, and cause the decimation of half of all life. But Tony survives this as well, even digging his heels in and refusing to acknowledge that he may have contributed a great deal to the Avengers’ failure, blaming Steve for the loss instead, citing the team’s split in Civil War. He’s so blinded by his guilt and anger that he even defends his initial idea of Ultron, and mocks Steve’s declaration that the team would stand together and lose together if need be, unable to see that if it weren’t for his actions in the past few films, the team would have still been together, and possibly been able to stop Thanos. 

So why the long-winded walkthrough of the MCU? Why not just get to the damn point? Because when it comes to the MCU, especially Endgame, context is almost necessary to understand who these characters are and where they end up. The true gravity of their journeys can only be grasped when looked at through the lens of everything they’ve gone through before and all of the decisions they’ve made to this point. This is especially important when it comes to Tony Stark - he’s the one that started it all, and the MCU has been told mainly through his eyes. Acknowledging and understanding all that’s he’s been through and done is crucial. 

Five years after The Snap, Tony lives nearly in denial. With no more threats to deal with, and the death of trillions weighing on his conscious, he’s isolated himself from the rest of the world, living a quiet life with Pepper and their daughter, Morgan. But when the surviving Avengers come to him with a possible solution to undoing Thanos’ work, Tony’s need to fix things begins to nag at him once again. He can’t help but try to figure out a way to set things right, and he can’t stop until he does. “And then, and then, and then. I never stopped. Cause the truth is I don’t wanna stop.” he tells Steve in Civil War. As Pepper puts it, he won’t be able to truly rest until the job is done. 

But the possibility of fixing things still isn’t enough, not for this older, disillusioned version of Tony Stark. He’s only interested in keeping what he now has: a peaceful life with his family. He dismisses his friends and the possibility of hope; the only thing that changes his mind and gets him moving is finding a photo of himself with Peter Parker, his greatest achievement and greatest failure. At the same time that Tony was making disastrous decisions in Civil War and beyond, he was also mentoring a young, poor kid who’s only desire was to look out for the little guy. Peter was the one thing Tony was getting right. He represented the next generation of heroes, and Tony’s guidance was steering the young man in the direction of being even greater than Iron Man was.

“If you die, I feel like that’s on me”

One of the biggest continuous themes of the MCU is legacy. What do these characters leave behind, and who’s legacy were they carrying on to begin with? Howard Stark tells his son that his greatest creation has always been Tony, and Tony carries on his father’s legacy while improving upon it, using his intellect and inventions to try and better the world without needing to divulge in shady weapons manufacturing. He also attempts to be a better father figure than his dad was. “My dad never really gave me a lot of support I’m just trying to break the cycle of shame.” Tony is better than his father, but he still has many flaws of his own. Peter Parker was the next step in that line. “I wanted you to be better.” is what Tony says to Peter when the inexperienced hero makes a large mistake of his own in Spider-Man: Homecoming.

So once again, guilt is what dominates Tony’s mindset, driving him to help create a way to time travel and bring back those they lost. But he still has the capacity for one last selfish decision: to not completely reverse what Thanos did, and instead, keep the last five years intact, and simply bring back the deceased to the current time. It’s one of the more interesting choices the movie makes. Instead of easily setting everything back the way it was before, the world and characters still keep what they’ve been through and experienced in the last five years, thereby ensuring that the grief and emotions they’ve felt aren’t erased, and can continue to shape them moving forward. But it’s still born from Tony’s selfish desire to not lose the life he’s had with his wife and daughter, even if the world and a lot of people in it might be better off if the last five years never happened.

“I am Iron Man”

Tony’s story ends with an ultimate act of heroism, a selfless sacrifice that mimics the one he made in The Avengers but is much more impactful now that he’s had even more time to grow and change as a character. He gives his life to finally stop Thanos, giving up the potential to live a full life with his newly acquired family, all so that others may live. The greater good finally outweighs his own self-interest, and it’s not only the perfect ending to his journey, but the only possible one. He can finally rest knowing that the job is done. He was the suit of armor around the world that he envisioned, whether he realizes it or not, and his legacy will be a large part of the MCU moving forward. 

Steve Rogers’ journey, on the other hand, is about a completely selfless man finally giving himself a break, and for once in his life, serving his own self-interests and well-being. Steve has been infallible throughout his many MCU appearances, forever serving the greater good and defending all that is right in the world, no matter what the cost. He’s made sacrifices time and time again, ready to give his life to stop Hydra both in The First Avenger (where he also gives up his potential future with the love of his life), and The Winter Soldier. He even sacrifices his newfound, established life as the leader of the Avengers in Civil War, all in service of defending his best friend and refusing to answer to a governing body with agendas, since, as he learned in Winter Soldier, agendas change.

Despite all of his attempts to accept his new life in the modern day, Steve Rogers is still a man out of time. He puts on a great facade, trying to adjust to modern technologies and a more complex, less black and white world, but deep down he still longs for the life he lost. “Family, stability...the guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.” This is true to an extent. Steve actually does still pine for the simple life, but that option became unavailable to him the second he was frozen. Similar to Tony, Steve buries himself in his work, in endlessly fighting the good fight. He can’t stop because he doesn’t want to stop. As he tells Tony in Civil War: 

“If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t.”

“I can do this all day”

But why is that? Even more so than just his righteous obligations, Steve has to keep himself busy, because he doesn’t know what he would do without his duties as a superhero. In Winter Soldier, Steve confesses to Sam Wilson his feelings of wanting to get out, but not knowing where he would go or what he would do. As Ultron puts it, he’s only pretending that he could live without a war. In Endgame, Steve spends his time honoring Sam by holding group therapy sessions, but as he tells everyone to try and move on, he knows that he himself isn’t capable of it. He never has been, not fully. When an opportunity to kill Thanos and set things right arrives, he states that he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it doesn’t work. A conversation between him and an elderly Peggy is key to understanding Steve’s mindset and where he’s destined to end up.

“For as long as I can remember, I just wanted to do what was right. I guess I'm not quite sure what that is anymore, and I thought I could throw myself back in, follow orders, serve. It's just not the same."

"You were always so dramatic. Look, you saved the world. We rather mucked it up."

"You didn't. Knowing you helped found S.H.I.E.L.D. is half the reason I stayed."

"The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes, the best that we can do, is to start over.

And so Captain America throws himself in one last time, fighting one last fight to save the world. He’s a different person now, hardened and wisened, and his journey to the past makes it clear as day. The fact that he fights his naive, patriotic, spandex-clad younger self isn’t just for fun, but to show how far he’s come, and how he’s needed to overcome that more innocent part of himself. He even learns how to deal with situations without needing to punch his way out, as shown when he tricks the Hydra agents into handing over the scepter. A younger Cap would’ve just fought them for it - setting the scene up almost exactly the same as the elevator fight from Winter Soldier is, once again, not just for fun. And for the final time, Steve proves himself worthy of his heroism, wielding Thor’s hammer and facing down Thanos and his army alone, ready to die on his feet. 

But if anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s Captain America. After helping save the world time and time again, he’s more than earned the life that he’s desired for so long. When Steve travels back to the 1970s and sees Peggy, still holding onto the photo of him before he was ever a superpowered human being, he sees an actual chance at the life he missed out on. So with the job finally finished, he treats himself to one single act of selfishness, both for his own desires and to honor Tony’s sacrifice, since it was Tony who wanted Steve to get himself a simpler life, and told him so. Steve going back to the past doesn’t just give him the opportunity to be with Peggy, but also a chance at preemptively making the world in that reality a better place, knowing what he now knows and having the knowledge to fix the issues that arise as the world becomes more complex. He, along with Peggy, can build S.H.I.E.L.D. into what it was always intended to be.

“The price of freedom is high, and it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not."

Just like Tony, Steve leaves behind a worthy legacy. His deeds have inspired both everyday people and his fellow Avengers, and in passing on his iconic shield to Sam, he cements the idea that Captain America isn’t merely a singular person, but a title. A mantle. After a life of serving everyone else, Steve can now serve himself, but his duties and philosophies can be carried on forever, first by Sam and then on and on. Endgame’s final shot is of Steve and Peggy finally getting their dance together, and I can’t think of a more emotionally satisfying note to end the current iteration of the MCU on.

If Tony and Steve’s respective narratives are about selfishness vs selflessness, then Thor’s revolves around the idea of self-worth. Thor starts out as a cocky, entitled war monger, seeking out fights and enemies to vanquish just for the glory and recognition of it. He grew up up being told that the throne and the kingdom are all his, and he was raised on and inspired by his father’s tales of conquest. If any one hero grapples with the burden of legacy, it’s Thor. His name is literally Odinson, forcing him to be forever imbued with the fact that he is his father’s son, and the heir to Asgard’s throne. Odin has basically been God for a millennia, which for Thor, is quite a daunting role to live up to.

Asgard, as we learn in Ragnarok, is a nation who’s very foundation was built off of genocide. The slaughter of countless innocents are what paved the way for Odin and his people to exist in a form of indulgent, extravagant paradise. It’s a literal monument to colonialism. The Asgardians don’t stop at just wiping out other civilizations and taking all they can get from them, they also make the choice to sweep all of that murder and pillaging under the rug, hiding the true nature and legacy of their society. “Where do you think all this gold came from?” Hela is the ultimate symbol of Asgard’s hypocrisy - she’s literally a secret Odin kept locked away, and as the Goddess of Death, she .represents the true essence of Asgard’s old ways.

“You are unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed”

So when Thor chooses to constantly try and assert his dominance over others, and rule through brute strength alone, he’s merely following in his father’s footsteps. Loki contains the worst traits of Odin as well, but unlike Thor, who goes on a personal journey that changes his ways, Loki is forever stuck with the desire and birthright to rule on high, and mercilessly, over those he considers inferior to him. In the first Thor film, Thor ignites a war between Asgard and the Frost Giants due to his masculinity being threatened (“Run back home, little princess”), and when Odin shows up, Thor is overjoyed, rightfully thinking that his dad will gladly assist him in killing his enemies. But Odin, in his later years, appears to be trying to make amends for his past evils. He strips his son of all of his power and casts him out to Earth, where he learns humility through his time with Jane Foster, Erik Selvig, DarcyLewis, and Phil Coulson.

Thor’s quest to prove himself worthy is a continuous one, and the only way he has to measure it is by whether or not he can wield his hammer. The criteria for worthiness is, fittingly, set by Odin himself. He’s the one who casts the spell on the hammer. But what does being worthy even mean, really? I believe it’s the right to hold such a grand amount of power as the hammer is, establishing that you are a good enough person to be trusted with literal godlike strength. Thor earns this when, during his first trip to Earth, he readily gives his life to protect innocents. But who Thor is, both with and without his hammer, is a question that the later films dive into. 

Thor’s vision in Age of Ultron shows him the extent of his failure as a ruler. His power only leads to destruction. His failures lead to the devastation of a small town in New Mexico, the Rainbow Bridge on Asgard, and later, New York City where his brother decides to wreak havoc. In his vision, Heimdall tells him that he’s leading his people to their deaths. “See where your power leads.” he’s told as his powers destroy the Asgardians around him. Later on, at Clint’s farm, he steps on, and breaks, a small toy house belonging to Clint’s daughter. Thor, the God of Thunder, only seems capable of further destruction, rather than salvation. He is Asgardian after all, and can’t seem to escape the cycle of violence that he’s inherited from his bloodline.

Thor’s visions come to fruition throughout the course of the events of Ragnarok and Infinity War. He loses his father, his hammer, his girlfriend, his home world, his best friend, his brother, and almost all of his people. His victory over Hela comes at the cost of countless Asgardians and the complete annihilation of Asgard itself. Thanos then arrives immediately after and takes away even more from him. With seemingly nothing left, in his grief, Thor reverts back to his arrogant, bloodthirsty ways, setting out on a mission of revenge. Thor, with his new weapon, Stormbreaker, becomes more powerful than he ever has been before, wiping out Thanos’ army and even overpowering the Infinity Gauntlet. But instead of finishing the job, he chooses to take a moment to gloat instead, a decision that leads to Thanos’ victory, and it becomes Thor’s greatest shame. Once again, where did all his power lead him?

“What more could I lose?”

Thor’s arc in Endgame is possibly my favorite, because it’s the most personal and relatable one. He’s fallen into a deep depression, ignoring his duties to the surviving Asgardians in favor of getting drunk and playing video games all day. He’s gained weight, he’s stopped taking care of himself, has poor hygiene, and isn’t motivated to do anything about any of it. He’s in despair, weighed down by his failures. Stormbreaker is only used as a bottle opener, and Thor’s desire to still conquer enemies and feel victorious only comes in the form of fighting online foes. Although he did kill Thanos, the mere mention of the titan’s name is a trigger for him, sending him spiraling into anger out of immense fear.

Thor’s new appearance and behavior may be played for laughs a couple of times, but it’s a heartbreakingly honest depiction of depression. His tearful pleas for Tony to let him use the Gauntlet, begging for the chance to do something good, something right, and his voice cracking when he admits to Rocket that he feels like he’s losing it, show a vulnerable side of the god that we’ve never seen before. And just like real life instances of depression, it takes the help of his friends for him to attempt to overcome it. Namely, Bruce Banner and Rocket Raccoon, who were there for him during other difficult times in his life. But despite the two of them being able to get Thor off his ass and back to work, his feelings of inadequacy and the burden of his failures are still too much, causing him to try and abandon his mission during the Time Heist, even after a pep talk from Rocket that seemed like it should’ve worked. The only person who is finally able to get through to Thor is his late mother. 

Making up for her lack of screentime before her death in The Dark World, Endgame brings Thor’s mother, Frigga, back and gives her one of the MCU’s most tender and heartfelt scenes to date. Thor has gone back in time and returned to the day that his mother died, while at the same time suffering from his feelings of failure to save trillions of people. It’s an emotionally charged moment, to say the least. “The future hasn’t been kind to you, has it?” Frigga asks him as she caresses the face of her weary son. Thor’s complicated relationship with Odin is based on admiration and competition. He idolizes his father and wants to be like, or even better than, him. In his early appearances, this admiration and trying to live up to his father is what drives his development. It’s the burden that he sheds at the end of Ragnarok, when Odin helps him embrace his full power.

“I’m not as strong as you.”

“No. You’re stronger.”

There’s an emotional distance that comes with a relationship based on idolization and strength. When Thor needs to be stronger, it’s his father that he talks to. It’s his father who drives him as a leader and as a warrior. But he’s also a person of emotions. Sometimes he needs to be consoled, not driven to more power. Odin can’t do that for him. Frigga’s role, though brief, is one of nurture. When Thor is nervous before his coronation in the first film, she’s the one that calms him down. When Odin banishes their son, she rebukes her husband. When Loki is imprisoned for his crimes and visitations are forbidden, she goes to him anyway, to console him. 

“The measure of a person, of a hero, is how well they succeed at being who they are”

The importance of the conversation that Thor has with Frigga is that she’s not telling him to be stronger or to work harder, or reminding him that he’s king of Asgard; she listens to him, and then tells him that, yes, he’s a failure. She tells him that he probably won’t live up to the idea that he has of himself, which is based on him trying to live up to his father, but that’s all right. He doesn’t need to. Most people never live up to what others see them as, or even their own ideal self. It’s not advice that could be expected to come from a conversation with Odin. “Everyone fails at who they’re supposed to be.” 

It’s one of the most touching lessons to ever come from a superhero movie. Before he leaves, Thor calls to his long lost hammer, and to his delight, sees that after all that he’s been through, after all of his mistakes and failures,he is still worthy. No matter how bleak the world looks, no matter what you’ve done wrong, no matter how far you feel into the hole and are trapped in depression, you are still worthy. Of power, of leadership, of love, of redemption. Moving forward, Thor seems ready to truly find himself by relinquishing the throne to Valkyrie and choosing to join the Guardians of the Galaxy. He once was able to use his power as a tool to build rather than to fight (when he creates The Vision), and perhaps he may be able to do it again, and create rather than destroy. 

The concept of worthiness isn’t a narrative constant just for Thor, but for all of the Avengers. No where is this more evident than the scene in Age of Ultron where they each take turns trying to lift Thor’s hammer, to little success. “How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.” Ultron tells them. The Avengers have to prove to themselves time and time again that they’re worthy of the immense power they possess, that they’re the right people for the job of saving the world. Are they gods or are they monsters? Endgame is where the heroes proves their worth and try to live up to their potential, not just as a team but individually as well. Tony proves he’s worthy of an actual heroic act, Steve proves that he’s always been worthy by literally wielding the hammer, and Thor proves he’s still worthy despite his failures. There’s one character though, that doesn’t bother to try and lift the hammer. “That’s not a question I need answered.”

“Who do you want me to be?”

Natasha Romanoff was a person who had no place in the world. A master assassin who could change her appearance and identity in the blink of an eye, she committed heinous crimes throughout her entire early life. When Clint Barton is dispatched by S.H.I.E.L.D. to kill her, he sees the possibility of redemption within her, and makes the call to spare her life. Natasha thinks that she’s finally on the side of good, and begins trying to make amends for her previous crimes. “I’ve got red in my ledger, and I’d like to wipe it out.” she tells Loki inThe Avengers. “Can you?” he replies. “Can you wipe out that much red?” It’s a question that Natasha must often ask herself. What she did in her past life seems unforgivable, so how can she possibly ever truly make up for it? 

“You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are part of you. And they will never go away.” This statement from Loki is the truth: S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t Natasha’s answer. They use her in exactly the same ways her previous employers did. This is only more obvious when it’s revealed that S.H.I.E.L.D. has been run by Hydra all along. “When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I thought I was going straight. But I guess I just traded in the K.G.B. for Hydra.” From then on, Natasha throws herself into helping lead the Avengers, seeing that as the actual way to make up for what she’s done, and wipe the red from her ledger. Her moral compass, and one of her closest friends, is Steve, the ultimate symbol of unfiltered goodness. But what happens when the team is taken away from her? 

In Endgame, Natasha continues leading what remains of the Avengers team, desperate to keep herself busy to the point where she wants to figure out how to stop natural disasters. “It’s an earthquake. We handle it by not handling it.” Okoye tells her. For Natasha, the emotional toll of the Avengers’ defeat is visibly heavier than the others. They were all she had. “I used to have nothing, but then I got this. This job. This family.” We don’t get to see the full picture of her life beyond lip service, but it’s been communicated and implied that Romanoff’s history is a tangled web of anonymity, carnage, and secrecy. Orphaned and trained from birth, she has no familial bonds nor any knowledge of who her biological parents are. As part of her graduation ceremony in spy school, she was sterilized to prohibit any chance of compromising a mission for the sake of family.

In Civil War, where the Sokovia Accords tear the team apart, she sides with Tony. But this choice isn’t because she necessarily agrees with his stance - her goal is to keep her family together. “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.” she tells Steve, who stands on the opposing side. At this point, Black Widow has found a purpose to her job that extends beyond completing missions. So after years pass in Endgame, it’s why she now openly defines her job as her family—the family she’s never had. Now her job as Black Widow, an Avenger, means more to her than any other Avenger. It is at the heart of who she is and what she does. 

“Even if there’s a small chance, we owe it to everyone who’s not in this room to try”

When a chance of hope arrives, Natasha is one of the most optimistic. In a reversal of roles, she tracks down Clint, who’s since lost his own family and has been on a murderous, vigilante rampage. She arrives to offer him a chance at redemption just as he did for her all those years ago. Similar to Natasha, the extent of what exactly Clint has been doing is left vague. A recurring issue with the MCU is that it often paints some characters with far too broad of strokes. But there’s enough there that we can understand he’s exactly where Natasha used to be. Once she brings Clint back in with a mission, the significance of their roles in Endgame are found in the interconnectedness of their friendship.

The pair are tasked with retrieving the Soul Stone on the planet Vormir, and the only way to get it is by sacrificing a loved one. So who’s going to be that sacrifice? “Natasha, you know what I’ve done,” Clint tells her. “You know what I’ve become.” Hawkeye’s statement reveals that the real motivation for giving himself up for the stone is an opportunity to escape from self-guilt and shame. “I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes,” Romanoff assures him. “Maybe you should.” “You didn’t,” she reminds the guilt-ridden Barton. Natasha’s motivations differ from Clint’s. She steeps her rationalization for sacrificing her life in purpose. She’s experienced the grace of second-chances and friendships. Natasha seizes this moment as an opportunity to make the tumults of her life purposeful. 

Her motivation is built on purpose and assurance, while Hawkeye’s is a precipitous attempt to escape guilt and failure. She understands her position in light of her failures, and Hawkeye’s defines his sacrifice by his. True recompense requires sacrifice emptied of self-gratification, which is why it is Natasha who gives her life - for the salvation of billions of innocent lives, for her self-made family, and for the man who was the first person to ever give her a second chance. “Love is for children, I owe him a debt.” is what she tells Loki. Here, her debt is repaid, but the truth, revealed by the necessary sacrifice to receive the Soul Stone, is also evident that the two love each other immensely. 

“If it was down to me to save your life, would you trust me to do it?”

Natasha’s purpose-driven sacrifice is exactly what it means to be an Avenger in the superhero sense. Her understanding of the true gift of family, having never had one before, is what enabled her to use her abilities, skills, and talents to put herself in harms way, even offering the ultimate price of her life, so that others may live—especially her family. Because for Natasha Romanoff, “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.” Clint couldn’t comprehend this the way she ultimately lived it, which is why she had to be the one who ultimately died for it. It stings to see that she is the only original Avenger to not be a part of the final battle, but as Clint realizes in the film’s epilogue, she knew that they would win, and made it so. It’s a bittersweet end to the character, but it’s one that still feels honest to who she was. 

The one Avenger who feels shortchanged, much to my disappointment, is Bruce Banner. When we last saw him, he was unable to bring out the Hulk to assist in the fight against Thanos’ army, and was forced to rely on his own abilities. It’s a good precursor for where he is five years later in Endgame - Bruce’s journey has been finding a way to coexist with his violent other half, and in doing so, find peace. “For years I’ve been treating the Hulk like he’s some kind of disease, something to get rid of. But then I start looking at him as the cure.” 

Bruce finally figures out the solution. “I put the brains and the brawn together, and now look at me. Best of both worlds.” He and the Hulk are now seemingly one. Banner is who’s in charge and who gets to call the shots, but he now possesses Hulk’s body and strength. He used to be a reserved man who shied away from the public eye, forever on the run or in hiding, and never wanted to be near a civilian population for fear that the Hulk would harm people. Now he’s happily taking selfies with children in a public diner. That’s tremendous character development, but the most crucial and cathartic moment of that journey happens entirely offscreen. We don’t get to see it actually happen, we’re only told about it.

“That’s my secret, Cap”

It feels like a bit of a disservice to the character, and with Banner only existing in Endgame as an exposition machine and wielding the Gauntlet once (more on that in a second), it leaves a few unanswered questions. The mystery of why Hulk refused to come out and help during the events of Infinity War is never answered. The last time Hulk was on Earth, he was on a rampage that killed many innocent people, and an ensuing fight with Iron Man caused considerable devastation to a city. Hulk’s public image was ruined, but now, without explanation, he’s allowed to freely hang out wherever he pleases. Bruce and Natasha’s fractured romance is never even addressed. I understand that their relationship is an unpopular one (I, for one, love it), but it’s a major part of both characters, and is the basis for one of Ragnarok’s best scenes. Completely ignoring it, as they do in Endgame, makes it feel hollow, and only fuels the people who declared it unnecessary in the first place (again, I think that’s wrong).

Beyond that, what exactly do Bruce and Hulk gain from this new dynamic? How does it benefit the two of them? Hulk seems to want to be in full control, greatly enjoying the time he was behind the wheel for many years on Sakaar. So why would he willingly (if it was willingly, again, another question) give that control up? What does Bruce get out of this? He relied on the Hulk to be able to deal with grave threats, but in this post-Snap world, what threats are there to face? Why does he need the Hulk’s strength during what appears to be a peaceful time? He appears to be living on his own, no longer interacting with the surviving Avengers, so he’s obviously not interested in helping solve what problems do exist in thecurrent time. Perhaps merging with the Hulk just allows Bruce to finally be able to relax, and not constantly be looking over his shoulder or living in constant fear of a “Code Green”. This is the only satisfying answer I can come up with, but it’s still only speculation. The real answers aren’t given. 

In The Avengers, there’s a particularly interesting conversation had between Bruce and Tony. “I’ve read all about your accident.” Tony tells him. “That much Gamma exposure should’ve killed you.” Bruce scoffs at this. “So you’re saying that the Hulk, the other guy, saved my life? That’s nice. It’s a nice sentiment. Saved it for what?” Tony smiles. “I guess we’ll find out.” In Endgame, Bruce’s purpose seems to be made clear. No one else is able to wield the power of the Infinity Gauntlet and survive except him. He notes that all of the radiation emanating from it is mostly Gamma, the very thing that created the Hulk in the first place. “It’s like I was made for this.” he murmurs. This is certainly a fascinating moment, and Bruce using the Gauntlet to bring back everyone that was lost to Thanos is an obviously vital part of the story, but it still feels like it’s lacking some pieces of information. What exactly does it mean that Bruce / Hulk is the only one who can do this? What’s the significance of that? 

“Hulk always Hulk”

The severe lack of films in the MCU that prominently feature Bruce Banner definitely attribute to his arc feeling a little weaker than others. Taika Waititi gets most of the character right, but so far I think the only person who really understood Bruce and knew how to write for him was Joss Whedon on both The Avengers and Age of Ultron. Again, where Banner is at in Endgame is great and makes perfect sense for where he was always headed, and I very much enjoy this version of him. But the crucial moments for how he gets there are missing, and they’re sorely needed. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like Marvel is quite done with Bruce and his other half yet, so there’s plenty of opportunity to further flesh them out and give them renewed purpose down the road. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Endgame, like any movie, has its ups and downs, but for the most part I find it to be an incredibly satisfying conclusion to where the MCU has been headed up to this point. I appreciate the fact that the action is mostly subdued - apart from Clint’s murder spree in Japan and Captain America fighting his past self, there are no significant action moments until the finale. And that finale pays off in spades, fulfilling the promise of seeing (almost) every character joined together in the battle to end all battles. It’s one of the big moments all of these films have been leading to, and it lives up to the challenge of it. The decision to make Endgame a more character-focused and emotional narrative than its action-heavy predecessor is brilliant, and it’s what makes (almost) all of the main characters’ arcs of this particular story feel so rich and fulfilling. 

The Marvel Cinematic Universe has been an enormous influence on me. The first Iron Man came out when I was starting high school, and the lessons imparted from it and every film following it are ones that I’ve taken to heart as I’ve navigated my way into adulthood. Besides Spider-Man, I didn’t really grow up with the Marvel superheroes. But I fell in love with these movies. They’ve been nothing short of a thrill ride, but one that you get to experience differently as you keep going back on while you get older and wiser. You get to take away more from them each time you revisit them. These characters have meant a lot to me during important times in my life, and these movies have ignited my imagination and fueled my love for film in general. 

“Dread it, run from it, destiny arrives”

Like all great works of fiction, and the comic books before them, the films of the MCU are packed with real-world parallels. Iron Man is a capitalist war profiteer, a microcosm of the United States and the industrialist world as a whole, and how that can, and needs to, change. Captain America embodies the idealist vision of what America is supposed to be (but definitely not what it is now). The Winter Soldier is about literal Nazis that have infiltrated the highest levels of American government and have done so for decades, a harsh reality that the real-world U.S. has only recently woken up to. Ragnarok deals with the unspoken, hidden truth of colonialism, how many great societies were built off of the slaughter of innocents, and how those societies refuse to acknowledge those past crimes against humanity. It’s a bloody history that many countries have.

Infinity War showed a foreshadowed, ranting, genocidal maniac steamrollering his way through the public conscious, annihilating previously established societal norms and all but obliterating the status quo. It showed that, despite all of our best efforts, despite all that we thought was safe, protected, and guaranteed, evil can still rear its ugly head, and win. It can win in the grandest of ways. But Endgame teaches us that even after years of wallowing in defeat, falling into deep depressions, or attempting to ignore the problem all together, we can still come together and rise up to the challenge of setting things right. We are still worthy of that, despite our mistakes and our failures. Beyond that, we shouldn’t try to erase the past few years and the experiences we’ve had, and the emotions we’ve felt, during them. We need to use those as the fuel to move forward, to bring back what’s good, and to vanquish that evil entirely. 

Avengers: Endgame is about finding hope, and having the courage to act on it. It’s also about finding the strength within yourself to achieve things that are truly heroic, whatever it takes. That’s what superheroes are all about.

“Part of the journey is the end”

The culmination of eleven years and over twenty films of character and world building and interconnectivity amongst them all, Endgame isn’t just a finale but a celebration of all that’s come before. Storytelling of this magnitude has never been attempted before in cinema, so the fact that this gamble didn’t just work, but quickly became the literal biggest and most successful movie franchise in history, eclipsing long-established heavyweights like Star Wars ,Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter in only a few years, is a testament to the immense talent and vision of Marvel Studios. A studio which, before Disney saw the writing on the wall and gobbled them up, was small and independent, financing the first Iron Man film through a bank loan. 

It is a landmark achievement. Endgame has been annihilating box office records left and right, raking in an insane $1.2 billion in a single weekend, and passing $2 billion the next, taking Titanic’s spot as the second highest-grossing film of all time. It’s poised to take on Avatar for the number one spot on the list next, and it just might be able to do it. It earned all of this. Endgame is a fireworks display; a victory lap through the years and movies that got us to this point, and it more than satisfies the audience that’s been on this journey for the past decade. 

No matter where the MCU goes from here, whether it soars to even greater heights or crashes and burns, we’ll always have this. I’m very optimistic about the future though. These films have been taking greater risks and have been becoming more diverse and inclusive, and those are only good things. It’ll be fun to see how the universe can still expand and branch out even further. The future is bright.