'Captain America: Brave New World' Is a Cowardly Reflection of a Crumbling America

This is where we are now

Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures

There’s a moment in Captain America: Brave New World where Thaddeus Ross (Harrison Ford) carelessly destroys the physical embodiments of American democracy in a blind, self-serving rage. That seems like a very supervillain thing to do—recall General Zod’s desecration of the White House in Superman II—but in this case, Ross is the MCU’s fictional President of the United States. You know, the guy responsible for protecting such institutions. Typically.

As I watched the destruction unfold, I could only think one thing: Damn, this looks awfully familiar.

Marvel included these scenes in the trailers, which means they consider them a selling point. Take that to mean what you will.

Actually, I’ll editorialize for a sec.

I think Marvel wanted to recapture the awed excitement we felt when the Independence Day trailer showed the White House getting vaporized. It was a real 90s moment. The kind that got people in theaters.

Putting similar scenes in the Brave New World trailer may be a lazy nostalgia play, but it’s also really hard not to view it through 2025 eyes. And to wonder who the destruction was supposed to mobilize into theaters. Is it affirmation for those who signed up for it? Or a glimmer of hope for those who voted against it? Or is it both, because capitalism only serves itself? (The answer: Both.)

Here’s a brief list of how Brave New World reflects present-day America. These aren’t all covered in the trailers, so a spoiler warning feels appropriate. We’ll get back to generalities after the bullet points, so skip ahead if you are dying to go into this movie knowing nothing other than it’s not great:

• An unlikely President with no political qualifications gains the Oval Office thanks to some shady shit.

• America is at odds with allies and pushed to the brink of war by the President’s lies.

• The President is prone to fits of rage.

• The destruction of American symbols of democracy.

• The complete inability of the U.S. government to do anything about anything other than cower, hide, and hope it blows over.

• Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) is despised by the President for no good reason, other than probably definitely racism. (If it was about the Sokovia Accords, Ross wouldn’t hold Steve Rogers in such high regard, as Rogers was the leader of the splinter group who refused to sign the accords.) I assume the scene of President Ross demanding to see Wilson’s birth certificate was deleted.

• The President’s head of security is Russian Israeli (hat tip to

  Decarceration
  , though in my defense her accent sounds Eastern European and she's a former Black Widow; either way, the optics of the President entrusting his security to a foreign agent remains sus). I literally LOLed, the only time I laughed during the entire movie. During one scene, Ross sends everyone out of the room to talk shop with Captain America and insists the Russian Israeli agent remain. At this point I assumed the film was clowning us.

• What about the fact that the colors orange and red are closely related?

Angry Orange President | Angry Red President

The resemblance between Marvel’s 2025 (or whatever post-snap year this movie occurs in) and our own are too many to dismiss as a fluke of coincidence. The mirroring and messaging is intentional. Unfortunately, Marvel doesn’t know what to do with the megaphone it seizes, and instead says nothing. Because these movies ultimately aren’t supposed to be about anything other than serving their own mythology, which intersects the American identity when convenient and diverts when politically advantageous.

The superhero as an archetype is based entirely on truisms like justice, a currency no longer accepted here. Which calls into question the future of the genre, at least in America. I wrote about this in the wake of the 2024 election:

One of the biggest outcomes of the 2024 Presidential election is not so much who won but what was lost. Trump's return to the White House shatters the rule of law. There is no accountability. Justice is no longer a matter of right and wrong; it's something that can be bought. The rich and powerful have always gotten away with things that would put you or me behind bars. But never before has it been so blatant and indifferent to public perception or anything approaching morality. Worse yet, this was what America chose for itself. For better or worse, this is who we are now. Not all of us. But enough to settle the matter rather decisively.

Part of the American identity has always been our own assurance that we were the good guys. The shining citadel on the hill, a beacon to all nations. Come into our firelight and warm yourself by our gentle democracy. At times we strayed too far into interventionism and even quasi-imperialism, but we remained a nation of laws, a bastion against the evils of vicious men. The world's policeman, for better or worse.

Our history is full of shameful injustices. But there was generally a sense of progress. Slow and painful but gradually more egalitarian. It was the future promised by Star Trek. My fear is our future closer resembles Star Wars: a once-vaunted republic perverted by a caricature who always returns, somehow, gradually turning us into an evil empire. The heroes in such stories are not embodiments of ideals but people borne down by oppression. Their fight is not for high-minded concepts but for mere survival.

This is where we are now.

What becomes of the superhero when real world justice is no longer attainable or even desirable? How do we cheer for these characters when the ideal they were created to uphold is proven to be as fictional as their superpowers?

Excerpt from What Even Are Superheroes in a Post-Justice America? (for paid supporters)

These questions were a bit theoretical when I asked them because we didn’t know how to answer them. This is terrifying new territory. The continued relevance of characters who wear their underwear outside their pants is the least of our problems.

Movies are a reflection of the times in which they are created. Beyond the simple comfort of disappearing into another world, they provide hope that things can get better. The entire premise of The Lord of the Rings is that the smallest person can impact the world. Hope is not just a feel-good sentiment; it’s life itself.

Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures

As the first superhero film released in the wake of the election, Brave New World was uniquely positioned to act as a counterpoint to Trump’s America. To remind us what America is supposed to be. To give us hope. It doesn’t matter that the movie was shot prior to the election—the fact that Trump could run for president after inciting a coup was evidence of systematic rot. He’s both the problem and the symptom.

Instead the film settles for empty affirmations that we are still the good guys or dodges the question entirely. And while I admire the decision to not make it about race, how can you release a movie with a Black Captain America and not address race at all? MAGA is a direct response to Obama. If that’s not racism, I don’t know what is. Pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t solve anything.

Black Panther is beloved because it tells the truth. It’s seeped in the experience of being Black, including systematic racism. Meanwhile, Brave New World treats Sam Wilson as if he’s no different from Steve Rogers, which is admirable if ignorant. It makes Sam feel safe, and palatable to all audiences, even and especially racist ones, and thus he’s not Sam at all. Where’s the cool self-assurance? Where’s the trash talk? Where’s the quiet rage?

Not here.

Brave New World could’ve been special. It was the perfect time for a film with a Black man as the face of America. A chance to say something significant. To be a counterpunch to the fresh horrors emerging from Washington daily.

Instead, it plays it safe and avoids asking uncomfortable questions of America, so we can stick our head in the sand and pretend nothing has changed. If this is what new superhero films look like—ignoring the problem, or quietly capitulating—you can keep ‘em. Empty hope is no kind of hope at all.

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During the film’s climax, Sam takes a page out of Michelle Obama’s playbook: “When they go low, we go high.”

I love the sentiment, but it only works when the other side can be shamed.

Sometimes the good guys just need to throw some fucking punches.