The superhero is truly dead. What started out with a bang with Daredevil and Jessica Jones, ended with a whimper with Luke Cage and Iron Fist. And you only have yourselves to blame.
If there’s one thing you should be doing this weekend, it should be watching Wonder Woman 1984. This a superhero film like no other – it’s peppered with nostalgia, romance, a sinister villainess, and of course, Gal Gadot’s effortless grace.
Jessica Jones is an eloquent portrait of female rage that makes you glad for the anger. The women aren’t merely outraged about the abuse they’ve faced. They’re furious about a whole spectrum of systemic injustice of which sexism is only the tip.
The Oscars Red Carpet was not as snooze-worthy as the ceremony. Billy Porter ditched the tuxedo yet again for a gold-feathered bodice and a ballgown skirt. But the real bold choice was made by Natalie Portman. Her stunning Dior black-and-gold cape gown was embroidered with the names of snubbed women directors.
After ruining Superman for my little sister and making the travesty that was Suicide Squad, Zack Snyder expects me to pay for Justice League. He might as well rob me at gunpoint.
Captain Marvel takes us back to the humble beginnings of the MCU, before we come to its operatic end. It’s a welcome palate-cleanser before the guaranteed plunge into the overstuffed chaos that Avengers: Endgame, releasing next month, will be.