The latest in the superhero franchise "is scrappy, scruffy-looking, down-to-earth fun", with a "charismatic" Florence Pugh at its centre, writes Nicholas Barber.

Ever since Avengers: Endgame came out in 2019, the subtitle has felt a lot more appropriate than the studio might have liked. It's not that Marvel hasn't had any hits in the 2020s, but it is no longer releasing an unbroken chain of talked-about blockbusters, nor is it keeping audiences invested in a story that threads through all of them. That particular game has come to an end.

The Marvel films that have worked best since Endgame are the ones that have moved furthest away from the pattern set by the so-called "Infinity Saga" – the first 22 instalments in the franchise, which pivoted around a fight against uber-villain Thanos. Last year's R-rated Deadpool & Wolverine used almost no characters from the main Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU); the postmodern Spider-Man: No Way Home paid tribute to the Spider-Man films which weren't made by Marvel Studios; and the latest Marvel film, Thunderbolts*, has its own distinct identity, too. That's not to suggest that it isn't a part of the MCU. In fact, one of its clever touches is that it specifically addresses how gloomy people feel in a world where Iron Man, Thor and Captain America are no longer around. But the director, Jake Shreier, and the screenwriters, Eric Pearson and Joanna Calo, have come up with an unruly take on the superhero genre which makes it the most refreshing MCU offering in years.

The key is that, rather than trying to be as glossy and expansive as the Infinity Saga films, Thunderbolts* is scrappy, scruffy-looking, down-to-earth fun. It isn't the epic tale of indestructible titans saving the Universe, let alone the multiverse; it's a comedy-tinged caper about bungling secret agents who are deemed a liability by the very company that used to employ them. It's not a new scenario: after The Bourne Identity, there were countless action films in which disavowed spies dodged their erstwhile handlers. But Thunderbolts* stands out because it has a whole group of such spies: a ragtag bunch of depressive, dysfunctional loners who must work together and can't stop grumbling about it. What's especially unusual about the film, in Marvel terms, is that its premise would be viable even if the characters weren't super-powered. And, indeed, they aren't all that super-powered compared to the aforementioned Captain America and Thor. Part of their appeal is that they can be killed by bullets and trapped in rooms with locked doors, which makes them a lot easier to relate to than Norse gods.

There's a lesson there that the makers of such disappointments as

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