Ironheart: No Heart, All Disaster
The MCU has been misfiring on all cylinders in recent years, but even then, it’s rare that a project is so aggressively tone-deaf, poorly conceived, and narratively broken that it actually redefines how bad things can get. Ironheart, unfortunately, checks every one of those boxes. From a thoroughly unlikable protagonist to a dangerous distortion of heroism, the series isn’t just bad—it’s a stain on the MCU. It’s not just that it fails to live up to the legacy of Iron Man—it feels like an intentional parody of it.
Heartless
Let’s start with the core issue: Riri Williams is insufferable. Unlike Tony Stark, who began his journey as a selfish genius but slowly evolved into a hero who made hard sacrifices, Riri is stuck in self-obsession. She constantly belittles others, acting like anyone who doesn’t speak in quantum equations is beneath her. If you don’t understand her inventions, you’re an idiot. If you don’t support her questionable ethics, you’re a hater. It’s the kind of arrogance that alienates rather than inspires.
Instead of using her incredible mind to help people or make the world better, Riri is single-minded in her pursuit of one thing: her own notoriety. She doesn’t build to protect. She doesn’t innovate to uplift. She wants to be seen as the smartest, most brilliant person in the room — not because she wants to change the world, but because she wants everyone to know how clever she is. She builds to impress and dominate—and then complains endlessly that no one gives her enough credit.
The Iron Man suit — once a symbol of redemption and responsibility — is reduced to nothing more than a high-tech ego booster. It’s not just a bad show — it’s a character assassination of what Iron Man stood for.
There’s no humility, no vulnerability, and certainly no charm. Tony Stark was arrogant too, but he was also clever, charismatic, and deeply flawed in ways that made him relatable. Riri is none of those things. Where Tony had an arc of growth and redemption, Riri has entitlement and snark. Where Tony had gravitas and stakes, Ironheart has plot holes and quips.
In a Cave! With a Box of Scraps!
As much as the show tries to frame Riri as a scrappy underdog, that narrative collapses under its own contradictions. This is a girl with access to MIT’s world-class labs, top-tier grant funding, and what we assume is the kind of education most people would sell a kidney for. Yet she constantly whines about being limited—like she’s tinkering in a basement with a broken soldering iron.
Tony Stark built the first Iron Man suit while imprisoned in a cave with scraps. Riri builds a next-gen suit in a multi-million-dollar facility and then lectures the audience about oppression. The hypocrisy is deafening. She’s not some disenfranchised genius fighting against the system—she is the system, and still acts like she’s owed more.
Even more perplexing is the fact that Riri could easily monetize her genius if financial constraints were truly an obstacle. Many of her inventions rival, if not surpass, the capabilities of current military and private-sector technology—devices that would be worth millions, if not billions, to defense contractors, tech companies, or government agencies. But instead of taking even the most obvious step toward solving her so-called “lack of resources,” she chooses to stay in self-imposed martyrdom. It’s hard to sympathize with a character who insists on struggling when every door is already wide open.
Criminally Criminal
Halfway through the show, and Riri’s track record reads more like a rap sheet than a hero’s journey. She helps students cheat at MIT, steals the Ironheart suit—funded by university grant money—and returns home like nothing happened. To a neighborhood where everyone knows her. No police, no federal agents, no fallout. She’s living in plain sight, treating grand theft and academic fraud like they’re minor inconveniences.
No consequences. No self-reflection. No remorse. She joins a criminal gang, commits breaking and entering, launches a missile strike against police officers, and uses the suit for personal vendettas. At no point does the show hold her accountable for any of this.
If anything, the series celebrates her criminal behavior as justified because the targets work for the wealthy. Security guards—ordinary working-class people—are beaten and shot by Riri’s “innocent” gang allies. But because they’re employed by billionaires, it’s okay, right?
This is not a hero’s journey. This is a villain origin story masquerading as empowerment.
Because Reasons
Then there’s Ezekiel Stane—yes, the son of Obadiah Stane, because the writers clearly needed some name recognition—who’s introduced as a reluctant arms dealer who “doesn’t want to be like his father.” And yet… he becomes exactly that. Why? No one knows. The writing doesn’t even try to explain his motivations. It’s just another sloppy narrative shortcut in a show built on them.
The entire premise of Ironheart feels like someone watched Iron Man and asked, “What if we took this, stripped out all the moral growth, injected a healthy dose of anti-heroism, and threw in some vague social commentary to cover the holes?”
Toxic Representation
The most alarming aspect of Ironheart is not its bad writing, its clunky action, or its bizarre pacing—it’s the message it sends, particularly to young black girls. Instead of offering a nuanced, complex, and inspiring hero they can look up to, Disney delivers Riri: a character who teaches that it’s okay to be selfish, dishonest, and criminal as long as you say you’re doing it for your community.
There’s no moral center here. No responsibility. No growth. Riri’s actions aren’t challenged—they’re glorified. And in doing so, the show trains its audience to believe that heroism is just about being powerful and angry, not doing the right thing when it costs you something.
Disney Values
There have been missteps in the MCU before, but Ironheart is uniquely exploitative. It doesn’t just fail to entertain—it actively insults its audience. It weaponizes identity to deflect criticism and avoid accountability. And in doing so, it perpetuates harmful ideas under the guise of progress.
The show is littered with moral gray areas it refuses to address. The writing bends reality to protect Riri from consequences, all while demanding the audience see her as a hero. If Ironheart were a real superhero story, Riri and her crew would be the villains.
For Disney to package this and present it to the black community as "representation" is not just disingenuous—it’s disgusting. Black audiences deserve better than a morally bankrupt protagonist who reflects every value parents teach their kids not to emulate.
This isn’t just the worst MCU show ever made. It’s a betrayal of everything Marvel used to stand for.
