The superhero movies of the early 2000s, when they weren’t slinging zany ridiculousness, were showering us with ash, ruin, and persecution. (Think Batman Begins and X-Men.) The world, it seemed, was barely worth saving.

Then in May 2008, Iron Man rocketed onto screens, starring an only slightly muscled genius playboy billionaire...arms dealer. Not exactly Christopher Reeve’s Superman. Not exactly an earth’s-mightiest-hero-type thing. But Iron Man wielded new Mark III weapons and a new mocking, self-aware wit—a heroism not embarrassed to pee in its shiny suit and tell us how good it felt.

And as it turned out, the world was more than ready.

Iron Man earned $99 million in its opening weekend and announced the arrival of Kevin Feige, then head of production at Marvel. Over the next ten years, his films would rake in $16 billion. Not bad for the boy wonder from Jersey, now 45, initially rejected by USC’s film school (several times).

As antiheroes were swarming post-Sopranos television, Feige was finding a different way to humanize heroes—not by making them villainous but by making them...lonesome. In need of assistance, companionship, teamwork (a super-secret boy band...or just a bunch of jackasses standing in a circle). These heroes are incapable of solving problems by themselves. And this emphasizes cooperation—and Feige’s greatest theme: friendship.

It’s a kind of sentimentalism that could veer into schmaltz if Marvel’s comic reflexes weren’t so fast. Feige created heroes who live off one-liners, belching forth a universe replete with relentless references and wisecracks—like Ulysses written in crayon.

The Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy face down (again and again) some form of tyranny that desires to break them apart. Marvel heroes are constantly presented with the moral challenge of having to break eggs to make an omelette: letting others (and one another) die for the greater good. What the Avengers and Guardians share is the basic rule that they will not trade lives.

Feige has presented progressive relationships, web-slinging away from clichéd romantic plotlines and pelvic sorcery and instead focusing on everyday partnerships. That’s because the likely challenges we face are not existential but closer to home: Sometimes the hardest mission in our life becomes loving our brother; sometimes the greatest sidekick through strife remains our brainy sister.

And with this concession, we find a sort of realism that no other hero franchise has captured. Our Marvel hero is the flawed Everyman. He doesn’t simply share our challenges. He shares our fears, too: that we will fail, that we will let our friends down, that we will hurt one another, that our powers are not enough to save those close to us—that we will be forced to betray our principles.

Meet some of Marvel's modern superheroes:

Iron Man

Marvel

He's more than a metal Batman. He's that super-difficult and ultra-successful friend whose quips and brilliance make his flaws forgivable (usually!).

Hulk

Marvel

We empathize with his split personality and the burden of a quietly intelligent man living with the "other guy," who is prone to crushing outbursts of blind anger.

Captain America

The embodiment of freedom, he lives by an exacting moral code that we can admire without necessarily aspiring to. Even that helps us make tough decisions.

Ant-Man (and Hawk-Eye)

Marvel Studios

The only Avenger dads, these mortals with extreme powers and domestic dramas symbolize our own duty to don the cape for our families.

Star-Lord

The galaxy's smooth-talking, shamelessly dancing dose of positivity and steadfast friendship is the superhero who'd be most fun to get a beer with.

Shuri

Marvel

The smartest character (that's right, Stark, we said it), Shuri reminds us that the women in our lives would get on just fine saving the world without us.

Drax

Marvel

The literal giant destroys us, overcoming the slaughter of his family by making unlikely new friends. As he says, "Nothing goes over my head—my reflexes are too fast."

Deadpool

20th Century Fox

The postmodern superhero connects with our inner cynical, wiseass, jaded devil-on-the-shoulder voice, which makes all this stupid hero worship bearable.

Josh St. Clair Joshua St Clair is an editorial assistant at Men's Health Magazine.

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