Every Marvel Cinematic Universe movie, ranked from worst to best

Marvel waited a whole decade before giving Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff her own solo movie after objectifying her in Iron Man 2, hurling old-fashioned sexism at her in The Avengers, and then having her sacrifice her life to save Hawkeye (of all people) in Avengers: Endgame. Yet Black Widow is less about finally paying tribute to the occasionally thankless work Johansson’s been putting into this franchise and more about utilizing her established popularity to set the stage for future Marvel movies. Natasha’s (fake) family is fun, particularly Florence Pugh’s vest-loving Yelena Belova, but the rest of the movie gives in to the worst impulses of the MCU (where everything exists to tease future movies) and of prequels (where everything is either a winky joke or an attempt to over-explain something that didn’t need to be explained). Taking time to clarify why Widow has a different outfit in Infinity War is one thing, but why do that and not explain how she escapes the Avenger-hunting soldiers or why Yelena is working with Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ probably evil Contessa at the end? [Sam Barsanti]

The first Avengers was a monumental feat of blockbuster filmmaking, assembling the stars of its five precursors and making good on the gigantic bet placed on a humble Samuel L. Jackson cameo. The second, while nearly as huge at the box office, almost proved the folly of such a massive endeavor: It’s a swollen, globe-trotting expedition that’s more important for what it sets up—vibranium and Black Panther, Vision’s tragic role in Infinity War—than for anything having to do with the Avengers battling a rogue AI voiced by James Spader. Age Of Ultron’s production was tortured enough to drive Joss Whedon out of the big-screen superhero game, but at least he gave us before he went. [Erik Adams]tk

Regardless of exactly where falls in an overall MCU movie ranking, its placement within just the Thor saga couldn’t be clearer: this fourth installment vastly outpaces the hollow first two, but falls short of the instant classic that was Thor: Ragnarok. Is it any surprise that Taika Waititi, after breathing fresh, outrageous, goofy life into the franchise, can’t quite recapture such magic a second time? Love And Thunder is packed with laughs, decent enough action sequences, and true spectacle—its visuals balance candy-colored comics and ooky-spooky shadows, all set to heavy metal—but it’s not enough to distract from the nagging worry that Waititi’s novelty has worn off. Or maybe the Hollywood darling is too busy riding the career wave Ragnarok wrought (winning an Oscar for Jojo Rabbit and producing , for example) to invest in innovating its sequel. There’s fun to be had with the cast, of course: Natalie Portman’s return to the franchise as scientist-turned-Mjölnir-wielder Jane Foster delights; Chris Hemsworth as Thor and Tessa Thompson as New Asgard king Valkyrie can pull off Waititi’s schtick in their sleep; and Christian Bale’s Gorr the God Butcher is a game, if underused, villain. But if you’re trying to make an MCU film that truly stands out these days—or at least one that breaks into a ranking’s top 10—“resting on charm” is not a viable strategy. [Jack Smart]

If you’re going to alienate Edgar Wright from making your Ant-Man movie (despite him being the only reason anyone wanted to make your Ant-Man movie), you could do a lot worse than hiring star Paul Rudd and his Anchorman collaborator Adam McKay to work on the script, or hiring Peyton Reed (Bring It On, Down With Love) to direct. This snappy team explains why Ant-Man is entertaining and light on its feet, while Wright’s departure helps to explain why the whole thing isn’t ever quite as clever or hilarious as it should be. Part of the problem is the movie’s soft-pedaling of Rudd’s likable career criminal-turned-superhero Scott Lang. Lang never really registers as a bumbling ne’er-do-well, just as Ant-Man never really registers as the heist picture it’s supposed to be. It’s just a bit of MCU ephemera, enlivened by Michael Peña’s delightful sidekick turn. As a whole, Ant-Man is good enough to get by, but it feels like some kind of indictment that Rudd is funnier in Captain America: Civil War. [Jesse Hassenger]

One complaint frequently lobbed at the Marvel movies is that they operate by a rigid, tried-and-true formula. But Doctor Strange may be the first of the studio’s blockbusters—various sequels included—to feel explicitly like a rerun. In forging a grand introduction for surgeon-turned-wizard Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), director Scott Derrickson and his cowriters essentially stuff the original Iron Man in a magic cape, offering the conspicuously similar origin story of a goateed, wisecracking egomaniac getting in touch with his selfless side. And yet if Doctor Strange dutifully, sometimes dully hits some very familiar plot points, it breaks the Marvel mold in at least one welcome respect: The special effects are uncharacteristically amazing, for once applying those Mouse House resources to the creation of some jaw-dropping set pieces, from Strange’s psychedelic head trip through the multiverse to a city-bending showdown that does new wonders with the dream physics of Inception. Maybe the inevitable sequel will marry that visual wizardry to a more magical story—or at least a less derivative one. [A.A. Dowd]

Marvel’s first Asian-led superhero film may have changed things up in terms of representation, but when it comes to the story, it’s the epitome of an MCU adventure. The first half of the movie, in which Shang-Chi (Simu Liu) and loyal bestie Katy (Awkwafina) discover that his father (Tony Leung, stealing the show) plans to eradicate his magical ancestral homeland, offers some excellent set pieces; they blend Chinese storytelling elements (and martial-arts mayhem) with Western spectacle—befitting a movie about an Asian-American hero torn between his roots and adopted homeland. But the second half struggles to smoothly integrate folklore and fantasy into what was previously largely contemporary action, and it still ends up relying on a massive CGI lightshow in lieu of a more satisfying finale. The results can’t help but feel like a missed opportunity, especially in the way the film casts legends Leung and Michelle Yeoh and then mostly just has them stand around. [Alex McLevy]

As it turns out, people aren’t all that enamored of an Iron Man movie without much Iron Man. Iron Man 3 can be great fun, thanks to a snappy script and fleet direction by writer-director (and embodiment of an action-comedy pro) Shane Black. But it also spends the majority of its running time with Tony Stark out of his super-powered suit. True, that’s the whole point of the narrative—strip Tony of his toys, and he’s still Iron Man on the inside, a resourceful hero—but it means the film is less a superhero movie and more a Shane Black vehicle, even turning into a rough approximation of one of the writer’s Lethal Weapon films for the middle act. Add to that a fire-breathing Guy Pearce for a villain, and you’ve got a tonally odd Marvel release, one that still counts an excellent sense of humor among its strengths, but that didn’t deliver what many fans were hoping for in the wake of The Avengers. [Alex McLevy]

Ant-Man And The Wasp is the rare sequel that surpasses the original, thanks to the increased importance of Scott Lang’s new partner—Evangeline Lilly as The Wasp—and the refinement of the Paul Rudd-as-superhero slapstick strategy pioneered by its predecessor. While the first Ant-Man was a fun, light-hearted romp, Ant-Man And The Wasp takes that frivolity further; it’s basically a comedy threaded through a superhero movie. Even the nominal villain (Hannah John-Kamen’s Ghost) is sympathetic, leaving most of the drama to rest on the heartfelt reunion between Hank (Michael Douglas) and Janet (Michelle Pfeiffer) in the Quantum Realm. Meanwhile, Rudd hams it up as Scott plays pranks on the cops who want to keep him under house arrest and name-drops “Cap,” and Lilly’s Wasp gets her own size-changing set-pieces, adding another ass-kicking woman to the testosterone-heavy Marvel roster. It’s a small but bright spot in the franchise. [Gwen Ihnat]

Having one massively successful Marvel movie under your belt tends to earn a director a little more leeway to shrug off the conventions of the studio’s house style and pursue their own vision in the sequel. (At least it .) After the critical and box-office success of the first Guardians, James Gunn returned to his motley assemblage of outer-space weirdoes with diminished but entertaining results. The story of Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) discovering his father is a literal living planet, only to learn he’s also trying to basically replace all existence with himself, is surprisingly sentimental, with Gunn delving deep into the ersatz family dynamics of Star-Lord, Ego (Kurt Russell), and Peter’s pseudo-adoptive dad, Yondu (Michael Rooker). Guardians Vol. 2 possesses a warped wit and Day-Glo-absurdist imagery that keeps it fun and engaging, but the whole endeavor ends up feeling strangely weightless. Perhaps it’s the literal lack of gravity? [Alex McLevy]

The MCU was extremely overdue for its first woman-led production by 2019, so Captain Marvel had a lot riding on it. Brie Larson was fortunately up for the challenge, matching Skrull battle cry for Skrull battle cry. The space travels, battles, and feline hijinks are fun, alongside Carol Danvers’ relaxed banter with a digitally de-aged Samuel L. Jackson (as Nick Fury) and the ’90s-rock soundtrack. But at its heart, Captain Marvel is a movie about identity: Who are we if even our memories are suspect? We meet Carol as Kree warrior Vers (her repeated line is “You don’t know me”), only to discover that she’s actually a brave American test pilot who’s had to get up off her feet after being knocked down again and again, mostly by men. That inspiring montage aims to lift the heart of every woman and girl who sees it, and by the end-credits scene, it’s obvious that if anyone can defeat Thanos, it’s the as-yet-unnamed but all-powerful Captain Marvel. [Gwen Ihnat]

Who would’ve guessed that James Gunn was a big ol’ softie at heart? Actually, looking back at his previous films, it was right there in front of us the whole time, but still. brings Gunn’s Marvel trilogy to a close with a deeply affecting look at Rocket’s backstory. The rest of the team gets up to some classic Guardians hijinks as well, and that “No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn” fight scene will go down as one of the greatest in MCU history, but it’s the way the team rallies around their fallen comrade that makes this film so memorable. Well, that, and poor, poor Lylla, Teefs, and Floor. [Jen Lennon]

No Way Home is messier than the average adventure off the MCU assembly line… At times, it feels like there are as many movies competing for screentime here as there are villains, with returning director Jon Watts attempting the herculean (or just Peter Parkerian) task of balancing a large cast of old friends and family with a new roster of adversaries with whom the audience is assumed to be familiar. The tone veers all over the map, turning the supervillains into quippy frenemies one minute, plunging Peter into narrative and meteorological darkness the next. The whole thing is pasted together with a volume of magical and scientific hooey (and MacGuffins) that’s high even by the standards of this extended franchise… At least the script, by Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers, folds the borrowed bads into a dilemma that feels catered to the earnest empathy of [Tom] Holland’s version of Parker: Can he save these displaced monsters and mistakes from their grim destiny?The paradoxical truth is that No Way Home’s extended exercise in franchise-agnostic fan service is at once an ominous precedent for future event movies and an at-times rather poignant gimmick. There’s something oddly moving about the film’s attempts to tie up the loose ends of two aborted series that came before its own. The crass crowd-pleasing of Marvel dumping action figures from different lines into the same playpen is partially redeemed by the emotional closure some of the returning cast members carve out for themselves. []

Quite possibly the most expensive exercise in wide-scale furniture-moving ever brought to screen, last summer’s massive multi-hero pile-up Infinity War occasionally stumbles into moments of humanity and warmth, almost in spite of itself. There’s an undeniable crossover spark to seeing, say, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange get into a metaphysical dick-swinging contest, or watching a newly one-eyed Thor trade quips with Rocket Raccoon. But not even Infinity War’s cleverest touch—constructing the entire story as a slow-burn hero’s journey for Josh Brolin’s would-be finger-snapping conqueror, Thanos—can fully overcome the sheer drowning tide of excess that threatens to overwhelm the movie at every turn. Too many fights, too many “shocking” character deaths, and too many generic CGI baddies all conspire to turn Infinity War into a sludgy, big-budget waiting game—even if individual performers like Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, and Zoe Saldana do everything in their considerable powers to elevate the film above the flood. [William Hughes]

Like its teenage protagonist, Spider-Man: Far From Home shouldered some heavy burdens. The 2019 film had to follow Avengers: Endgame, the ostensible conclusion to a story roughly 20 years in the making; get audiences invested in the next phase of the Marvel Cinematic Universe; and, as the second installment in a Spider-Man franchise, face comparisons to one of the best comic book movies ever, Sam Raimi’s . Jon Watts’ sequel nimbly scales those expectations to add a more self-aware chapter to the story of Tom Holland’s Peter Parker. Far From Home is vividly colored and reliably zippy, but hits some somber notes as Peter wrestles with that “great responsibility” we’ve heard so much about (from other Spidey tales, that is). The movie remains invested in Peter’s turmoil, even as he doubts his place in the new generation of Avengers. That character work cuts through the late-hour CGI maelstrom, keeping this sequel just as grounded, if not quite as charming, as its predecessor, Spider-Man: Homecoming. [Danette Chavez]

Facing the almost impossible challenge of reckoning with the untimely death of Chadwick Boseman, fashioned itself into the first superhero film to deal with grief not just as a plot device but a very real and messy thing that complicates the business of doing, well, almost anything. Consequently, the sequel is similarly preoccupied with Boseman’s absence even as it attempts to move forward the narrative of Wakanda, now not only a known entity but one whose technology forces upon it responsibilities that the rest of the world expects its leaders to fulfill. The catch, however, is that Namor (Tenoch Huerta Mejía), ruler of the underwater, mystery-shrouded nation of Talokan, blames them for bringing the intrusive surface world to their doorstep. As a result, Wakanda finds itself on the back foot in multiple ways that returning co-writer and director Ryan Coogler nimbly attempts to weave together into a tapestry that encompasses now celebrations of two marginalized cultures, a profound and affecting loss that cannot be “un-snapped” with a flick of a writer’s pen, and also the obligatory machinery of an epic, thrilling adventure. If the seams show, they’re held together with as much heart as creative elbow grease, generating an end result that’s more mournful than the first film’s majesty but worthy of the legacy of Black Panther, no matter who’s in the suit by the end credits. [Todd Gilchrist]

Let us first thank Spider-Man: Homecoming for leaving the radioactive spiders in the past. Jon Watts’ reboot, the character’s third in 15 years, catches up with Peter Parker in the months after he gained his signature powers, when he’s as awkward at slinging webs as he is at asking girls on dates. Truly, Homecoming’s best scenes have nothing to do with action—the CGI is boilerplate and Vulture (outside of that scene) feels way too familiar—and everything to do with friendship, parties, and coming of age, be it as a teenager or a superhero. Tom Holland’s excitable energy gives Peter a boyishness his predecessors lacked and, as such, the danger is felt that much more when, say, we see him legit crying beneath a stack of flaming debris. Consider also his parting words at the end of Infinity War; they wouldn’t have spawned if Peter weren’t, first and foremost, just a kid. [Randall Colburn]

There’d be no MCU if Marvel hadn’t nailed Iron Man, but the MCU wouldn’t be what it is today if the studio hadn’t also struck the right tone with Captain America. Frankly, it’s a miracle that The First Avenger works as well it does, especially since it rejects the tongue-in-cheek snark of the Iron Man movies and the weirdo tone of Thor in favor of a simpler superhero story about an absurdly skinny kid in the 1940s who is desperate to join the war—but not, as Chris Evans’ Steve Rogers explains to Stanley Tucci’s Dr. Erskine, so he can kill Nazis. He just doesn’t like bullies. The movie works because of , but not enough credit goes to its supporting characters—especially Hayley Atwell’s brilliant Peggy Carter, who deserved even better than . [Sam Barsanti]

The grand finale of the first major arc of the Marvel Cinematic Universe works as a handy stand-in for the franchise as a whole. Like the series it temporarily punctuated, this three-hour blockbuster is as epic as it is over-stuffed, is simultaneously ambitious and deeply formulaic, and occasionally comes close to drowning in CGI lightshows and faceless digital hordes. But when Endgame hits—during its bracingly downbeat opening or the continuity-spanning “Time Heist” that makes up its disarmingly fun second hour—it does so with the force of something considerably mightier than a god’s hammer: a decade’s worth of commitment, paying off narrative promises and character arcs that stretch all the way back to the original Iron Man, landing an ending powered more by the devotion these films have engendered in a well-served fanbase than by any flashy mitten of omnipotent baubles. [William Hughes]

With its great cast, tight pacing, and sharp humor, Guardians Of The Galaxy is basically an Avengers movie. You’ve got your cocky would-be leader (Chris Pratt), a sly and deadly assassin (Zoe Saldana), and the remaining “muscle/tech whiz/smartass” roles filled by Dave Bautista and the voices of Bradley Cooper and Vin Diesel. This team of space misfits assembles to track down the latest MacGuffin and fight off a world-ending threat (Lee Pace as Ronan The Accuser, temporary lackey of Thanos), becoming a family along the way. Director James Gunn, who’s officially , makes the first foray into the Marvel Cosmic Universe worth the trip. There’s no shawarma-chomping button, but there is dancing, a kaleidoscopic palette, exceptional chemistry among the cast, and one of the most moving moments of self-sacrifice in all the MCU. Guardians Of The Galaxy also sets a new bar for use of music in comic-book movies, starting with an early scene that’s the perfect mix of whimsy and rollicking action. [Danette Chavez]

Origin stories can be a drag; as the argument goes, they’re everything that happens before the fun begins. But Iron Man proves that they don’t have to be. The very first MCU movie finds a lot of humor and drama in the prelude portion of a superhero saga, building a sterling pre-armor character arc for Tony Stark, the sardonic playboy-mogul whose brush with death jump-starts his conscience. What director Jon Favreau really has going for him is Robert Downey Jr., whose witty, sneakily complex performance provides the film—and the universe it launched—with a glowing fuel cell of movie-star charisma. Iron Man, of course, is also the origin story for a whole franchise, establishing some of its strengths (humor, good acting) and weaknesses (boring villains, serviceable action and effects). But it remains, a full decade later, one of the studio’s most satisfying and well-rounded entertainments, mostly for how it privileges the man over the iron, and finds the fun in where those two sides meet. [A.A. Dowd]

There’s no greater action sequence in a Marvel movie than the big airport tussle that arrives late into Captain America: Civil War, pitting one half of the studio’s ever-growing superhero population against the other. More than just a playful, extravagantly orchestrated blast of splash-panel fisticuffs, the scene also serves as a microcosm for the larger feat of multitasking achieved by directors Joe and Anthony Russo and screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely. An Avengers movie in everything but name, Civil War somehow manages to juggle a dozen characters, shortchanging none of the regulars even as it introduces new players like Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman) and a newly teenage Spider-Man (Tom Holland), all while racing to a painfully personal, mano a mano climax. Some have insisted that Civil War is too long and too serious for its own good, but this big-budget ensemble soap opera handles its long list of obligations with grace. Certainly, it’s a more elegant crossover event than the actual Avengers movie its creative dream team would tackle next. [A.A. Dowd]

The best Marvel movies are the ones that find their own niche within the larger framework, whether it’s putting or dropping Spider-Man into another . With , Taika Waititi gave the MCU its best comedy to date, buddy or otherwise. The What We Do In The Shadows director plays up the deadpan humor and awkward interpersonal dynamics, finding killer pairings in Chris Hemsworth and every single one of his co-stars, from Mark Ruffalo’s Hulk to Tessa Thompson’s Valkyrie to Tom Hiddleston’s Loki, who is at his most charming here. That would be enough to make it the strongest film in the Thor trilogy, but Waititi also delivers some of the most striking visuals in all the MCU, creating a blacklight-poster aesthetic for this apocalyptic tale. Thor: Ragnarok pushes further still, intermittently setting aside its screwball energy to tell a poignant refugee story. So although he was tasked with bringing Asgard to an end, Waititi ended up breathing new life into Thor and his solo series. [Danette Chavez]

The rare Marvel film that’s as much a triumph of aesthetics as character or action, Ryan Coogler’s Oscar-nominated Afrofuturist blockbuster derives vibranium-assisted levels of power from its jaw-dropping, perfectly realized setting, in a way that the MCU’s usual assemblage of generic secret bases and random New York streets never could. Everyone who sees the African paradise of Wakanda instantly recognizes it as a utopia worth fighting for—and so they do, spurred on by one of the best-written, most understandably motivated villains in the franchise’s long, troubled history with antagonists. But to single out Michael B. Jordan’s Erik Killmonger would be to gloss over the sheer volume of scene-stealing talent—Letitia Wright! Winston Duke! Danai Gurira! Angela Bassett! Sterling K. Brown! Martin Freeman! Lupita Nyong’o!—that Coogler has surrounded Chadwick Boseman’s King T’Challa with. Black Panther set a new standard for what a stand-alone, “smaller” Marvel film could look like, employing razor-sharp world-building and casting to mine individualistic glory from the wider MCU rock. [William Hughes]

The first all-hands-on-deck superhero team-up film in the MCU is still the best, and the bar by which all future ones will be judged. The balancing act pulled off by writer-director Joss Whedon is a marvel (no pun intended) of blockbuster moviemaking: He manages to service the story of every titular hero from previous standalone films, create character arcs that feed into the larger plot, and provide a beginning, middle, and end to the story of Earth’s mightiest heroes coming together for the first time. And he does it all with a breezy wit and meaningful emotional stakes that keep you engaged for the entire two-and-a-half hours. Under the one good eye of Nick Fury, the story unites Iron Man, the Hulk, Captain America, Thor, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton (admittedly, Hawkeye gets the short end of the stick, serving as the brainwashed pawn of Loki for most of the film) in a battle against the God Of Mischief, who plots to lead a Chitauri invasion of Earth. From the character-based humor to the , it’s everything a Marvel fan—or even casual moviegoer—could want. [Alex McLevy]

Much has been made of the way drops unfrozen war hero Steve Rogers (a soulfully sincere Chris Evans) into its own modern version of a 1970s political thriller. That element is definitely there in the paranoia that colors its trust-no-one narrative, to say nothing of Robert Redford’s appearance as a shady politician. It’s just kind of an accent—a genre flavor. The Winter Soldier refines, rather than shatters, the MCU mold, which is key to why it’s the franchise’s rip-roaring highpoint. The Russo brothers, in their first gig for the studio, deliver fully on their mandate, offering all the team-building rapport (between Cap and Black Widow, Nick Fury, and The Falcon) and future-sequel setup required of a post-Avengers installment. But they also augment the usual CGI fireworks with some truly exhilarating practical stunt work, and push the company’s character-first ethos even further, locating multiple dimensions in their title Avenger, a rah-rah, fish-out-of-water anachronism grappling with our troublesome political now. The Winter Soldier isn’t the funniest or the most extravagantly shot movie in this forever franchise, nor does it boast the scariest villain or strongest performances. But it might be the platonic ideal of a Marvel movie: the kind of exciting, propulsive Hollywood thriller the studio is capable of creating when firing on all cylinders. Hopefully, there’s still room for its (relatively) leaner brand of superhero spectacle in the aftermath of Endgame. [A.A. Dowd]