Set after the events of Captain America: Civil War, Black Widow finds Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) on the run when a coded message from her erstwhile sister Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh) summons her to Budapest. The two Black Widow spies agree to take down the Red Room training program that created them, but they’ll need the help of their two former foster parents (David Harbour and Rachel Weisz) to defeat the spymaster (a ludicrously un-Russian Ray Winstone) who molded them.
After thirteen years of Marvel movies, television shows, and short films, the MCU has become almost entirely unwieldy, all but inaccessible to newcomers. I thought about this as I watched Black Widow, precariously positioned in a continuity that expects you to know when and why William Hurt is wandering around the periphery of the plot as Secretary Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross. For the true believers (or, as they’ve also been dubbed, “Marvel Zombies”) who haven’t missed a moment, it’s a frisson of continuity glee to see how Black Widow slots into the chronology, but it’s truly groan-worthy when the film reveals – surprise! – the secret origin of the vest Natasha was wearing in Infinity War. Not since Solo felt the need to explain Han Solo’s surname has a prequel bent so far over backwards to explain something no one asked.
Hurt aside, there aren’t many opportunities for the film to include any of the major MCU cameos we might expect, and this is actually for the better. A Black Widow movie, especially if it is indeed Johansson’s swan song in the franchise, ought to expand the title character’s world beyond what we already know about her. And on this count, the film both succeeds and fails. We do get a family of sorts for the orphan Natasha, who we learn spent formative years deep undercover in Ohio with a phony family. Then again, where were they this whole time, and where have they been since? (The easiest answer – that they were all “blipped” off-screen – is somewhat dramatically inert.) Rachel Weisz is intriguing but entirely humorless as Melina Vostokoff; unfortunately, she’s given very little in the film to do because so much oxygen is taken up by David Harbour’s excessively hammy performance as Alexei Shostakov, the Red Guardian. I didn’t read many reviews of the film during its hybrid theatrical/streaming release, but it seemed audiences were mostly enamored of Harbour, though I found his acting broad, cloying, and a little desperate.
With Johansson sleepwalking through the film, just about the only performance that caught my attention was Florence Pugh as Yelena Belova, ostensibly the “new” Black Widow. Pugh is fun, believable, and layered in a way most Marvel fan-favorites are (think The Falcon or Wanda Maximoff, even before they got their own shows). It’s a delight to hear that Marvel has further plans for Pugh, including a stint on the upcoming Hawkeye show, because Yelena could ably fill the void left by Natasha or create her own space entirely in the MCU (however that pesky lawsuit shakes itself out). When Pugh’s on screen, the film really seems to work, however dodgy all the so-called Russian accents might be.
I like Marvel movies more than most, and it’s not that Black Widow is wildly incompetent, a theatrical mess like whatever Batman & Robin was trying to be – or, more recently, the tonal hostage situation that was The Suicide Squad. Black Widow has an internal logic, a clear narrative, and a different set of stakes that the Marvel movies don’t always see. It works; it’s fine. But it was the first Marvel movie in years – perhaps ever – where I almost fell asleep. Granted, it was late, and all the lights were out, and I was alone; yet while the movie never lost me, nor did it ever really have me. The plot is predictable and without nuance, a kind of vanilla apology for the second-stringer position formerly occupied by Natasha Romanoff.
Then again, Natasha has been so much better in other, better films. She managed to make perfect sense among demigods and super-soldiers in The Avengers, and she was emotionally compelling in Endgame. And she was an absolute vision in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, still the best Marvel movie, hands-down, in part because it left her past as shadowy and oblique. Here, the truth about her childhood ends up making her a supporting character in her own film. In fact, maybe that’s the key. Black Widow doesn’t grow over the course of the film, having already reckoned with her past in other Marvel entries. All we get is a little padding around the edges, which may or may not come to bear on future projects.
At the end of the day, Black Widow is one of the lesser Marvel movies, about on par with Thor: The Dark World but never quite as engaging as, say, an Ant-Man or two. The Dark World was fine enough, but it’s never been something I sought out to rewatch. Throughout Black Widow, I found myself wishing I were instead watching The Winter Soldier. Natasha had an arc there, a purpose, and she was darned fun to watch too. Black Widow feels a bit like homework, obligatory for any true believer who’s come this far. Maybe brew a pot of coffee before you dive into this assignment.
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