Captain America: Brave New Nothing

Let me tell you about the moment I finally lost all hope in superhero movies.

There I was, watching the final fight scene between Red Hulk and the new Captain America. You know, the part where our hero is supposed to show why he deserves to carry the shield. Instead, I watched Sam Wilson bring a dinner plate to a Hulk fight (my sister's words, not mine), only to win by... becoming the Hulk's therapist.

No, I'm not kidding. The man literally talked down an angry monster by reminding him about cherry blossom walks with his daughter.

Hold on…I think I just swallowed my puke.

This is where we are now: Superheroes solving world-ending threats with emotional intelligence. Don't get me wrong—I'm all for mental health, but maybe not in the middle of a city-destroying rampage?

Remember when superhero movies were simple? Big bad guy wants to do bad things. Good guys try to stop him. Maybe throw in a cool sidekick and some witty one-liners. Done.

Now? We've got:

• Multiverse chaos

• Timeline killers

• Celestials in the Indian Ocean

• Five-year blips

• Hippo gods (yes, really)

• And apparently, therapy sessions mid-battle

Here’s a little thing about focus: If you try to do everything, you end up doing nothing well. Marvel seems to have forgotten this somewhere between its 47th interconnected storyline and its 23rd alternate timeline.

This isn't just a Marvel problem. It's everywhere: companies expand until they lose their core, apps add features until they lose their purpose, and stories add complexity until they lose their heart. In trying to be everything to everyone, we often end up being nothing to anyone.

Let's talk opportunity cost (yes, we're doing Economics 101 in a superhero movie review): Every minute you spend watching Captain America become Dr. Phil is a minute you could spend:

• Watching the original Iron Man (what a movie that was!)

• Reading an actual comic book

• Staring at a wall

• Literally anything else

But it's more than just wasted time and money. It's about what these franchises are teaching us about expectations. When everything has to be bigger, more complex, more 'important,' we lose the simple joy of storytelling. Not every movie needs to rewrite the universe. Sometimes, a good fight is just a good fight.

I'm not usually this harsh. I enjoy most movies, even the not-so-great ones. But there's something particularly painful about watching something you love lose its way.

Marvel started with a billionaire building a suit in a cave. Now, we're doing therapy with gamma-radiated monsters. I miss the days when the biggest plot twist was finding out who the bad guy was, not trying to understand which universe's variant of which timeline we're supposedly caring about.

If you haven't seen it yet, save your $15. Or better yet, use it to buy some old comics. At least they knew what they were trying to be.

As for me? I'll be rewatching Iron Man, back when superhero movies remembered that sometimes a good story just needs a hero, a villain, and a reason to care. Nothing extra.

And yes, I'll say all this, make it drama, but when Daredevil drops or Fantastic Four releases, I'll be there on the first day, middle row. And pray to the Marvel gods that they don't mess it up.

Because that's the thing about old loves—you're always hoping they'll get their shit together.