Let me start with a confession that feels vaguely unpatriotic: I cried during Captain America: Civil War. Not the ugly sobbing one reserves for Pixar films or surprise onions, but the dignified, misty-eyed kind one might shed when watching a nation unravel; albeit a fictional one, dressed in CGI and spandex. Marvel’s “Civil War” storyline, for those who don’t spend their evenings trying to rank the ethics of fictional billionaires in metal suits, is one of the most compelling soap operas in recent comic book memory. It takes your favorite superheroes; the ones who usually spend their time saving kittens, planets, and occasionally Gwyneth Paltrow, and forces them into a bruising ideological slap fight. Imagine Thanksgiving with your family, but everyone can fly or punch a helicopter into orbit.
This all culminates, cinematically, in Captain America: Civil War, which is technically the third entry in the Captain America solo series. I say “technically” because if this is a Captain America movie, then I’m technically a “light drinker.” Everyone shows up. Iron Man. Black Widow. Vision. Black Panther. That guy with wings. Even Paul Rudd, who’s essentially Marvel’s answer to comic relief and affordable CGI.
One might fairly ask: why isn’t this just Avengers 3? And one might answer, that this is very much Cap’s show. This is Steve Rogers’ existential crisis in red, white, and blue: What does freedom mean in an era of drone strikes and global surveillance? What is loyalty when your BFF may or may not have murdered a bunch of people under the influence of Eastern European trigger words? And why does everyone still look so good mid-air?
The Russo Brothers; those unlikely oracles of superhero gravitas, have pulled off a small miracle here. They’ve taken what should have been an unwatchable mess of tight costumes and egos and made it coherent, elegant even. Every character gets their moment to shine, including Tom Holland’s adorably over-caffeinated Spider-Man and Chadwick Boseman’s regal, tightly coiled Black Panther. The pair are introduced with the sort of finesse usually reserved for royalty and sitcom pilots, and somehow, miraculously, they fit right in.
And then there’s the airport scene. That iconic airport scene. It’s the kind of sprawling, choreographed chaos that would make a ballet dancer weep into their pointe shoes. Heroes punch each other. Quips are exchanged. Ant-Man turns into Giant-Man and presumably violates several international aviation laws. It’s thrilling, it’s funny, and it has more emotional nuance than some indie dramas I’ve paid twenty dollars to see in the hipster part of DFW.
But this isn’t just another battle royale. At its heart, Civil War is about consequences. The rubble left behind in Avengers: Age of Ultron isn’t swept under the rug; it’s weaponized, politically and personally. Tony Stark, ever the poster child for therapy avoidance, wants government oversight to soothe his guilt. Steve Rogers, haunted by government overreach (and possibly his inability to use a smartphone), believes in good old-fashioned rogue justice. The schism feels less like fantasy and more like, well…America. You know, the one we’re currently living in. The uncomfortable kind with partisanship, surveillance debates, and the occasional punching of people in masks.
The villain here isn’t a purple alien or an angry robot. It’s grief. Real, raw, human grief, dressed in a hoodie. Zemo (played with surprising restraint by Inglorious Basterds actor Daniel Brühl) isn’t trying to destroy the world. He’s trying to make the people who save the world feel his pain. It’s almost too mature for a franchise that features a raccoon with a machine gun.
If I have one complaint, and it’s a mild one, it’s the music. Marvel, for all its narrative triumphs, continues to offer scores with all the memorability of hold music, at least in this Civil War project. Give me a theme I can hum, dammit. Something John Williams-y. Something to scream-sing in the shower.
Still, Captain America: Civil War is a triumph. A funny, bruising, thoughtful blockbuster that asks hard questions and throws even harder punches. It’s not just one of Marvel’s best films. It’s one of the few that dares to explore what it means when good people disagree; and what it costs when they stop talking and start swinging.
After watching, I felt exhilarated and mildly ashamed of how emotionally invested I was in the fate of a man who carries a shield and refuses to move. But that’s the thing about Captain America: Civil War: it reminds you that heroes, like countries, are complicated. And sometimes, the only way to truly fight for peace is to throw a damn good punch.
