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The Dark We Dare Not Speak: Thunderbolts* and the Underworld Within
- Jason Batt
- 3 days ago
- 7 min read
"So none of us can fly? So what, do we all just punch and shoot? I can't think of a worse group of people trying to work together."
The anti-heroes' journey
Sitting in the theater for a superhero film doesn't usually come with an expectation of deep psychological reflection. The beats of the genre often follow Campbell's hero's journey, albeit often with just cursory attention to the underworld experience. Thunderbolts* (2025) shoves the trends and tropes of the genre aside and dives headfirst into the darkness of the psyche’s underworld. (Spoiler Warning: This essay contains major plot details from Thunderbolts*)
The ragtag group of anti-heroes that form the Thunderbolts is the last team anyone would expect to save the world. If the Avengers were Nick Fury’s bold vision of assembling the best and brightest for an extraordinary mission, then the Thunderbolts are the ones who didn’t make the cut—the castoffs, the rejections. The Thunderbolts* collects characters from across the Marvel Universe, most of whom were simply ancillary to the larger story in which they first appeared.
Bob and the birth of the void
Initially, the most unassuming of characters, Bob (Lewis Pullman), dressed in pale pajamas, soon consumes the whole of the story and quite literally consumes the very city. Bob is a superhero named the Sentry, possibly the most powerful of all humans in this fictional world. Bob admits that he wrestles with a darkness inside. He calls the aching darkness inside of himself "the Void”—a darkness fueled by childhood trauma. Ultimately, Bob’s Void manifests as an actual dark shadow monster—his greatest foe is the darkness within himself made real.
The attic of the mind: visualizing the psyche
The film’s climax is a spectacular visual exploration of the unconscious psyche and the Shadow archetype that sits deep inside, violently resistant to being dethroned. As the Void emerges, Bob withdraws psychologically. He experiences a complete dissociative retreat into his internal landscape, visualized as a multi-storied building in New York. As the Void unleashes havoc upon the real city, Bob hides out in a corner of his mind, pictured as a comfortable childhood attic setting, hoping for the storm to blow past. Bob keeps repeating his mantra, "It will be over soon,” as the monster outside rages.
The portrayal of the Void in Thunderbolts* offers a powerful dramatization of the Jungian Shadow—those repressed, denied, and disowned parts of the psyche that operate with unnerving autonomy. As C. G. Jung writes, “Closer examination of the dark characteristics—that is, the inferiorities constituting the shadow—reveals that they have an emotional nature, a kind of autonomy, and accordingly an obsessive or, better, possessive quality” (8). The Shadow is not simply something we carry—it can carry us.
Alongside Bob, Yelena (Florence Pugh) reflects this truth poignantly. Her pain constantly simmers just beneath the surface, shaped by loss, betrayal, and a lifetime of survival. She confesses, “There’s something wrong with me. An emptiness. I thought it started when my sister died, but ... now it feels like something bigger. Just a void.” Yelena’s memories reveal a long pattern of suppressing emotion and compartmentalizing trauma. She can take down supervillains yet is frozen when addressing her internal tortures. Only by plunging into Bob's manifested darkness is she empowered enough to open the doors in her internal void. Moreover, confronting her darkness then lets her guide Bob through his confrontation. Jung declares, "Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people" (Letters, Vol. 1, 237).
The Shadow is not simply something we carry—it can carry us.
The path of integration
This is the real confrontation Thunderbolts* offers—not with an external villain, but with the inner monster, the disavowed self. Until the film’s climax, both Bob and Yelena have avoided confronting the Shadow.
Avoidance will fail—again and again and again. The psyche does not forget what we choose to ignore. As Jung articulates, “Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is ... But if it is repressed and isolated from consciousness, it never gets corrected” (76). The longer we attempt to exile or exorcise our darkness, the more power it accumulates, festering in the unconscious until it bursts forth—often with destructive consequences. The Shadow will not be banished. It must be confronted, integrated, and ultimately embraced as part of the wholeness of the Self.
Thunderbolts* does not claim to be a psychological case study, nor should it. This is still a superhero film, shaped by genre conventions and cinematic spectacle. It does not diagnose or prescribe. Yet what it does remarkably well is give form and texture to the internal psychic landscape. It dramatizes the Shadow not as a single antagonist, but as an ensemble—each character a fragment of repressed guilt, shame, grief, or rage.
The superpower of love
Monsters have usually been defeated with violence. But this monster is different. So, Yelena gathers the Thunderbolts to do something spectacularly rare in a superhero movie—embrace Bob and demonstrate love. The Void is ultimately defeated, but not by some cosmic superpowered combat, but by a group embrace. The Void is defeated by a hug.
Psychologist James Hillman challenges us: “[T]he cure of the shadow is a problem of love. How far can our love extend to the broken and ruined parts of ourselves, the disgusting and perverse?” (242). Are we brave enough to take that superpower of love that we so often extend to others and turn it around and apply it to the dark, fractured parts inside? How powerful is that love? This exploration is very personal, and I feel compelled to ask myself if I can love the unlovable parts of me that I’ve buried deep in my void. Even attempting to ponder that question—and wrestling to give an honest answer—begins the work of healing. I must see that dark, shattered part of me as worthy of love—my love.
But this is not easy. These are the parts of myself I reject. I despise them. I’m often too aware of them, their horrible breathing and snarling in the back of my mind. These are the parts I am terrified others will discover about me. Hillman continues, “Loving oneself is no easy matter just because it means loving all of oneself, including the shadow where one is inferior and socially so unacceptable. The care one gives this humiliating part is also the cure” (242). The monster of the Shadow must be confronted, embraced, and hugged tightly.
Am I courageous enough to fully love all of me—not just the parts I’m proud of—but the rejected, fractured, painful, and embarrassing shards of me?
Compassion for the shadow
Thunderbolts* doesn't offer us easy answers or quick fixes. Instead, it presents us with the most difficult challenge of all: the courage to turn toward our darkness with compassion rather than condemnation. In a world that encourages us to curate only our best selves, the film's greatest gift may be its reminder that true heroism begins not with flying or super strength, but with the willingness to embrace our broken humanity.
The path forward isn't through denial or destruction of these dark aspects, but through the radical act of integration. We are all imperfect beings carrying our voids. But it's precisely in acknowledging this shared brokenness that we might find our way toward something approaching wholeness—not just for ourselves, but for the world we're trying to save.
We do not emerge from the Underworld of our Shadow the same. Thunderbolts* reminds us that redemption is not the denial of darkness, but the loving embrace of it. Campbell taught us that the hero's journey always requires a descent into darkness before the return with wisdom. Thunderbolts* reminds us that this isn't just the stuff of myth and legend. It is the most essential work of being human. The treasure we bring back from our underworld is the capacity to love all of ourselves, shadows and light alike. In the underworld, in the Shadow, we discover the rest of us there, our whole self, wailing desperately to be loved. The Void is not just Bob’s. It’s ours. The hero’s journey, now more than ever, demands not capes or shields, but compassion. For ourselves. For our shadows. Ultimately, that may be the only superpower that truly matters.
Important Reminder: If you are in darkness, you are not alone.
If you or someone close to you is experiencing depression, emptiness, anxiety, or thoughts of self-harm, know that these feelings are real—and there is always a path to help. Reaching out is not a sign of weakness but an act of courage and strength.
In the United States: Call or text 988 — the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. This free, confidential service is available 24/7 for anyone in emotional distress or experiencing a mental health crisis.
For more resources and live chat, visit 988lifeline.org.
You are not alone. Help is always within reach.
MythBlast authored by:
Jason D. Batt, PhD., is a technological philosopher, mythologist, futurist, artist, and writer specializing in mythologies of space exploration. He co-founded Deep Space Predictive Research Group, Project Lodestar, and the International Society of Mythology. He has authored three novels, edited four fiction anthologies, and his short fiction and scholarly work have appeared in numerous publications. Jason currently serves as Senior Editor for the forthcoming Journal of Mythological Studies, Co-Managing Editor of the Beyond Earth Institute Space Policy Review, and Associate Editor of the Journal of Space Philosophy
This MythBlast was inspired by The Hero With a Thousand Faces and the archetype of The Shadow.
Latest Podcast
In this episode we are joined by Dr. Mark Epstein - psychiatrist, author, and pioneer in integrating Buddhist psychology with Western psychotherapy. With decades of experience, Mark has transformed how we understand the mind, self, and emotional healing. His books, including Thoughts Without a Thinker, Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart, Open to Desire, The Trauma of Everyday Life, and The Zen of Therapy offer a profound synthesis of Eastern spiritual insight and Western psychological depth. Influenced by teachers like Ram Dass, Jack Kornfield, and Joseph Goldstein, Mark shows us how, psychotherapy, mindfulness, and compassion can lead to deeper self-awareness. In our conversation, we dive into Mark’s journey, how both Buddhism and Western psychology can illuminate the stories we live by. We also discuss his connection to Joseph Campbell, and how myth can serve as a powerful vehicle for self-discovery and personal growth. For more information about Mark and his work visit http://markepsteinmd.com/
This Week's Highlights
"In the myths, the shadow is represented as the monster that has to be overcome, the dragon. It is the dark thing that comes up from the abyss and confronts you the minute you begin moving down into the unconscious. It is the thing that scares you so you don't want to go down there."
-- Joseph Campbell
