Review
Culture
Film & TV
5 min read

Captain America's impossible task

Brave New World struggles despite some acting heroics.
Captain America crouches expectantly beside his shield
Ready for the next review.
Marvel Studios.

Captain America: Brave New World is the thirty-fifth film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), and the fourth film focusing on the character of Captain America. It’s also something of a sequel to a passible Marvel TV series. There is so much baggage, so much lore, so much build-up to this film; a production which has the unhappy task of honouring the seventeen years of previous storytelling, setting up plot points that can be explored in future films, and giving us a satisfactory stand-alone cinematic spectacle. I wouldn’t wish such a burden on anyone – an impossible task. 

Brave New World sees Sam Wilson fully inhabiting the role of superhero Captain America, a mantle bestowed on him by his friend and original Captain, super soldier Steve Rogers. Still doubtful of his worthiness and abilities, he seeks to wield the Vibranium Shield with style. He is sent on a mission to retrieve a stolen military secret from a group of mercenaries. He does so – with a few decent action set pieces – and is rewarded with an invitation to the White House.  

The newly elected President, General Thaddeus ‘Thunderbolt’ Ross, is seeking to shed his past reputation as a warmonger by negotiating an international peace treaty. A newly discovered resource has the capability of changing the face of medicine, technological innovation, and especially warfare. Every great power covets it, and Ross wants to foster collaboration for the betterment of the planet. The gala event is ruined when Sam’s friend Isaiah Bradley, a super soldier from the Koren War who was wrongly imprisoned, goes all Manchurian Candidate and shoots at the President. 

The peace treaty is in jeopardy. The President’s inner circle is compromised. There are secrets and lies that will not stay buried. There is a shadowy villain operating behind the scenes, determined to destroy the President’s reputation. Only one man can fight for truth, justice, and the American way: Captain America. 

This is as much as I can say without spoiling the entire film. 

Not that it would matter. The film is a bit of a mess.  

Sam is proposed as an underdog (having not actual superpowers, only a suit of armour), but is shown to be essentially indestructible…he literally disables a missile by flying into it headfirst. There is no sense of tension or risk. This is not helped by lacklustre action and some genuinely appalling CGI. The plot is all over the place – a result of some rather obvious reshoots featuring green screen that even the most amateur filmmaker could’ve improved. Most of the secondary storylines peter out. New characters and introduced and given almost no personality or progression. 

The script compensates for this by giving characters long monologues where they deliver clunky plot exposition and background information. This was inevitable. To understand the plot and characters requires one to have been a careful watcher of the previous films and television shows. I was somewhat impressed how the film managed to give a gentle introduction to the casual viewer, but it is very much at the expense of pacing and character development. 

All of this is a great shame, as the performances are rather good. Anthony Mackie has always been a magnetic screen presence and manages to combine both charisma and pathos is an uncharacteristically restrained performance. Tim Blake Nelson enjoys himself as the puppet-master villain, oozing bile and sympathy in equal measure. Every minor friend and villain delivers their lines with real feeling. Bloody hell…even lovable grump Harrison Ford looks like he’s actually trying as President Ross. 

Unfortunately, no amount of charisma can make up for a film that has no sense of itself. The shambles of a plot is matched by the shambles of a theme; a sadness, as there is so much potential. Sam Wilson is one of only a handful of black superheroes, and his friendship with Isaiah Bradley is partly based on their shared experience of race and discrimination in the face of honour and duty. This was introduced in the TV show and could’ve been explored further. Sam’s lack of superpowers could have been explored, had he been put in positions of genuine peril. His sense of inadequacy and overwhelming responsibility are mentioned, only to be quickly dismissed with a pep-talk from a throwaway cameo character. The concepts of conspiracy and disillusionment with authority are hinted at, but they formed the thematic thread of the previous three Captain America films, and when this film does approach them, it is by echoing the better storytelling of previous films. 

There is one plot thread, one theme running through the story, which goes some way to redeeming the film. President Ross is haunted by his past. A patriot, a soldier, and tireless worker for American security, Ross has a past littered with sins and mistakes. His anger, his bullishness, his obstinacy (physically manifested at the end of the film), has left him all alone. His daughter doesn’t trust him, Sam doesn’t trust him, and his international partners don’t trust him. He is seeking to become a better man, working towards cooperation rather than force and violence. However, his past life and secrets continue haunt him and stall his progress at self-improvement. 

In the end, by being open and honest and taking responsibility for his mistakes, Ross does achieve a certain amount of peace. He is able to be the figure of nobility and unity that he longs to be by sacrificing his power and prestige, and truly atoning for his misdeeds. Despite all the problems with the film, this (admittedly underdeveloped) bit of character study kept me engaged. Perhaps it was Harrison Ford’s performance. Perhaps it was because we’re approaching Lent, when Christians make an extra effort to acknowledge their past mistakes and resolve to do better. Whatever it was, it furnished the film with a truly sympathetic and improving theme. I wouldn’t spend money in the cinema, but wouldn’t mind seeing it in the TV guide in the future. 

2.5 stars. 

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Explainer
Belief
Culture
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4 min read

Why does the Pope matter today?

The personal, vivid link to the origins of the movement that changed the world.

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

An Anglican bishop wearing purple shakes hands with the Pope.
The author meeting the late Pope, 2024.

There is something about the way popes are elected that captures the imagination. Whoever dreamt up the idea of black smoke for ‘no decision’, and white smoke for ‘habemus papam’ – ‘we have a new pope’ - was a genius at marketing. So much better than a press release or a tweet from the Vatican X account. 

The conclave was brought to our imagination so vividly by the recent film with Ralph Fiennes. We love the idea of secret debates, intrigue, people locked away from the world until they come to a decision with arcane ancient rituals and an uncertain outcome. Was there ever a film whose release was better timed?  

There are also the sheer numbers involved. There are approximately 1.4 billion Catholics in the world today – roughly the same as the population of India and China, the world most populous nations. Yet the identity of the new pope is of matters to the rest of us too. The leader of China of India is of interest especially to people living in China or India, but maybe less so for those of us who don’t. The new pope is the head of churches round the corner from where you live, or of people with whom you work, or, if you are Catholic yourself, your own spiritual leader. This appointment matters. 

Yet it’s not just the optics, the drama, the numbers. And it’s not just for Catholics either. I am an Anglican, and since the Reformation of the sixteenth century, we have had in our own 39 Articles the statement: “The Bishop of Rome hath no jurisdiction in this Realm of England.” That might seem to settle the matter that it’s of no interest to English Protestants. But that would be wrong. 

I met Pope Francis once. It was at a gathering of Anglican Archbishops in Rome last year. We all were led through magnificent Vatican corridors into an imposing state room, adorned with fantastic frescoes, where the white-robed Holy Father was brought in on his wheelchair to deliver a brief 20-minute homily to us all. 

It was a good talk, thoughtful, well-constructed, but in many ways unremarkable. It didn’t say anything much that I hadn’t heard from other sources. Yet somehow this was different. His words carried a weight, a gravity that went beyond the content of the lecture itself. It was as if, when he entered that room, he carried with him two thousand years of church history.  

The line of Bishops of Rome goes back to St Peter, the gruff, unschooled fisherman who Jesus called from his mundane life to become an apostle, and who then on, was so captured by the person of Jesus that he gave his life in the cause. I left that room conscious of the weight of the office of the papacy, even if I don’t recognise him as my direct spiritual father. 

Listening to this successor of St Peter felt like you were listening to one of the friends of Jesus – and this was not just the personal quality of the man himself, but something about the office he occupied. It was a personal, vivid link to the origins of the Christian movement, the first stirrings of the revolution. 

The papacy is one of those unique things in modern life - an umbilical link to the past.

Of course, there have been some pretty terrible occupants of the papal see, whose personal lives showed scant evidence of any knowledge of, or relationship with Jesus. The sixteenth century Roderigo Borgia (Pope Alexander VI) comes to mind, who despite the rule on clerical celibacy, had several children from various mistresses, won the Papacy by bribing cardinals, and made his favourite son bishop of several lucrative sees at the age of eighteen, and a cardinal at nineteen. So, there is nothing automatic about this – which is why the Protestant Reformers denied the idea of any blanket automatic papal authority.  

Yet when a person of evident holiness is combined with this notion of the weight of the office, the papacy becomes a gift to all of us, linking us back to the earliest followers of Jesus – even to Jesus himself.  

The papacy is one of those unique things in modern life - an umbilical link to the past. Monarchies do something similar – linking us to the past through the long line of kings and queens of England, Denmark, Spain or wherever, yet more often than not, the events they lead us back to, the process by which those families took power, reveal murky politics, bribery and bloody battles.  

 This is a line in history that links us to the event that, if Tom Holland’s Dominion is to be believed, has had more impact in shaping western culture than any other – the remarkable life, death and resurrection of Jesus – a radical life full of love, self-giving and transformative power – for both individuals and whole civilisations. And for that, whether we are Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, or even, perhaps, unbeliever, we might raise a prayer - or a glass - of thanksgiving.